I was beside myself with worry on Sunday night: Truly I was in a state of panic.

At 6:30 p.m. on Sunday 23rd August 2015 I took my dog Penne out for a a "pee walk".

Evidently I had not secured the clip on her harness.  Thus she was able slip away from me, and disappear from my sight.

I searched for her and called her name.  I  could not see her, nor did she respond to my calls.

I was not too worried, thinking that she would come home within minutes.

By 7:30 p.m   my Penne was still absent. I began to get very anxious.

I went outside, and once again I searched for her and called her name, all in vain

I wondered: "did she chased after a Fox and got lost, or did she corner a Raccoon or Possum, and get into in a fight?".

By  8:30 p.m  she was still not at home.

I drove the neighbourhood, tracing the routes we take on our daily walks.  There was no sign of Penne.  By this time I was panicking

Had she been injured?  Was she lost?  Would I ever see her again?

Dammit, I was not panicking, I was freaking out with worry.

I knew that I would be unable to sleep, but I rested on my bed.  At 9:30 p.m. Penne came trotting into our house, all nonchalant, as if to say "no problem Dad".

Of course I lavished her with hugs.

In the meantime, with the doors wide open, "Miss prissy,stay-at-home" senior cat Ada had gotten outdoor,  Oddly enough, "Miss let-me-out-of here to explore" junior cat Adelaide stayed inside,

Adelaide yowled me to the back door three times. I followed dutifully, thinking that Ada might be there. 'Twas not the case.

With Penne safely back at home, I shut the doors and took myself to bed.  At 3:00 a.m. on Monday  I got  up to use the bathroom.  I decided to open the front door.  Ada shot inside, like a feline cannon ball.

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On Monday morning Ada would not let me out of her sight.  She even came to gaze at me adoringly as I sat enthroned in the bathroom.

Later, I went outside to do some weeding. Behind one of the shrubs  I noticed a large hole in the ground, sure evidence of canine digging.

I came to the conclusion that Penne had been there all the time. I guessed that on the hottest day of the year, she had done what dogs do -  she had dug herself a nest in the cooler earth, there to rest until she decided to come home at 9:30 p.m.

Maybe she had been within sight for those three hours -  within sight, but I did not see her.