My dog Skylar has been seriously depressed with the disappearance of our cat a week ago. Yes, I know you'll say I'm transferring my emotions - she's a dog - but I'm telling you it's true. She brings pieces of her food to the floor in front of the couch where the cat spent her days napping. I ask her where Summer is, she tilts her head, glances around the room, then heads towards the door (granted, if you ask where a cow is, she'll do the same thing).
If Skylar was a person, she'd be a friendly, yet dumb, blonde with attention deficit leanings, but I was starting to get desperate and hoped she could help. We drove up to the middle school, about a mile away, where Summer was last seen. I held her sweet, block-head face between my hands and said, "Where's Summer? You need to find her. You can do it - find Summer."
Skylar took off running. I was optimistic - for the first hour. We continued. I followed her lead for almost three hours. She found: two squirrels, a dead bird, a half-eaten chicken bone and a coupon for orange juice. No Summer.
If Timmy falls into a well near my house? I hope he carries a cell phone.
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