We noticed she was missing Sunday night. I was not feeling very well earlier this week (bad head cold). Most mornings it was foggy, so I stayed in the house. Buck went looking for her, but no Bootsie. We kept calling for her morning, noon and night, but no Bootsie. Finally, Buck came to the conclusion that either the big dog on the other side of the back fence or the guy a few doors down who raises chickens got her.
Wednesday, it was a beautiful day and I went out back to pick some oranges. Buck and I talked again about how we wish we knew what happened to Bootsie and how much we were going to miss her.
On my way to put a sack of oranges in my studio (aka junk room), I happened to look at the window facing the patio. Lo and behold, I saw Bootsie whining anxiously to get out. I ran, had to fight to get the door open because she had practically torn up the carpet trying to get out, and picked her up. Buck came running and took her from me. She was ready for food, water and potty, and not necessarily in that order. For the rest of the day, she asked to go in and out of the house about 30 or 40 times, just to be sure she was no longer trapped and could come and go as she pleased.
The only thing I can think of is that when the sun came out on Sunday, and I walked into the studio just long enough to put a box on the desk, she must have sneaked in without me seeing her. She's bad about that. Next time she goes missing, I know the first place I am going to go to look for her.
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