This is the second part of my story about an unusual Sunday. Click here for the first part.

View Larger Map

The above is a map of the swamp area where we searched for Elby.

So, where was I? Oh yes.. it was getting dark and Darin was headed back to the wilderness park with Ian and Mackenzie in tow, and a small stack of “lost dog” flyers in hand.  The trip was mostly silent, peppered from time to time with the usual questions from Ian about whatever happened to pop into his head. Darin’s knee was still throbbing and driving didn’t make it any better. When they arrived at the park, he delegated the job of posting flyers to Ian and Mackenzie. They put them up at the entrance on the north and south side of the road and inside the gate on the bulletin board, then drove to the little neighborhood and put up a couple there.

Not wanting to give up yet, Darin decided to swing back by the park one more time just to see if maybe Elby had appeared by some stroke of magic or fate. The park ranger was closing up for the night, and much to the dismay of the kids and Darin, had taken down the flyers. The kids were furious, wondering how or why the ranger would be so cruel. Darin shrugged and explained that it was government property, and they probably didn’t want that kind of stuff littering the area. Standard operating procedure – nothing personal.

The sun set behind the cypress trees and the gates to the park were locked, and once again, the van was pointed in the direction of home, missing one very dear occupant. All the way back, God’s ears and the ranger’s must have been burning as complaint after vocal complaint was lodged and duly noted, and the gloom settled in. Elby was either dead or alone, out there in the cold, dark swamp.

The prospect of a hot bath still didn’t sound all that appealing to Darin even though he was exhausted and in pain. It was going to be a long night at the Gasperson house – and then tomorrow there would be the matter of an empty dog crate and abandoned favorite blanket to deal with. When he pulled up in the driveway, he was deep in thought about the dreary prospects ahead of him, and the surprise stab of grief he felt at the loss of what had to be the most troublesome dog he’d ever owned. It must have been a curious sight then, to see me come running out the door, jumping and flailing my arms in a most improprietous way for a dignified middle-aged woman.

It must have been, judging by the way they were looking at me. Even as I opened the car door and started explaining myself, it took a few moments for my words to penetrate their dark mood. “What took you so long to get back?!…You left your phone here, I couldn’t call you…. the ranger called…. they have Elby…. he’s alive!! He’s ok!” The bewilderment on their faces was a picture I’ll always remember.

“But… the ranger took the flyers down….” And it dawned on them the real reason why. I brought Darin the phone so he wouldn’t have to hurt his knee jumping down from the van, and he called Ranger Jerry. Another ranger found Elby earlier in the day and thought maybe he was one of the hunting dogs from a hog hunt that happened that morning. She took Elby to Jerry’s house at the neighboring Flat Woods park, and when she went to close down the parks that evening, saw the flyers, recognized the dog in the picture,  and called me. I’m sure she must have seen the van with Darin and the kids (probably glaring at her), just before she dialed my number.

So there was yet another trip out to the wilderness park, and like the first trip early in the morning, it was a happy one, full of anticipation and hope. The ranger’s wife brought Elby out on a leash, and when he saw Darin he just about pulled the woman off her feet in his effort to get to his “dad”.

That night, we treated Elby like royalty. He was bathed in our brand new shower (the one that none of us has even used yet), lavished with affection, doted on, and allowed to lay (on his blanket) on the new living room carpet. He must have been thinking that he’d died and gone to doggy heaven (after a particularly rough afternoon in swamp purgatory). He behaved perfectly the whole evening, and slept soundly in his crate with no whining or trying to dig out.

The next day, Elby was back to his normal aggravating self. I think I even threatened once or twice to take him back out to the river swamp. He just laughed at me. We’ll see who has the last laugh.