Is the Dog in the House?

The dog got out of the yard the other day. Around 12:30. Do a quick check inside the house, slide open the cheese drawer in the fridge and take the lid off the bucket of treats. When that doesn't bring him out, I know he's not at home.
Outside, I look for clues of which direction he went: no tires screeching, I don't think he ran across the road, but then again, it's a really hot day in Suburbia, so there's not much traffic. No dogs barking at all, so either nobody in the neighborhood has their dog out, or he's farther than I think. It's been less than 5 minutes since the search began.
We split up: Andrew takes the path across the road, David, our neighbor, rides down the street, Annette, another neighbor, follows the path on our side of the street and I take the ground below her at the creek.
"Buddy. Buddy" Four different voices. Four different whistles.
I hear a jingle. Sounds like his tags. Other side of the creek. Where is the safest spot to jump across the creek? There. Did it. That jingling noise belongs to the dog being walked by a boy named Shawn. He tells me that Buddy was following them until he and his Grandma's dog ran down the bank to the creek. So I go up the bank to the park. There's a picnic going on at the Natural Garden. [Well, all the plants are gone now, so it's really just a sandy area surrounded by log benches, but I still think of it as the natural garden.]
Two adults, six children...one boy, around 3 years old is crying. I'm just about to ask them if they've seen a fat, black dog when one of the girls calls out, "Hey, we've got your dog!"
As if on cue, Buddy raises his head and a space is made in the circle that had surrounded him, and here he is. Once he's on leash, I go over to say thanks and find that Buddy has squished all the juice boxes and eaten the crackers the toddler had in his hand. No juice, no crackers, 95 degrees, I'd probably cry, too.

Take the dog home. Put some juice boxes, and some water, and a box of snack crackers in a bag. Back to the park to replace the lost food. And we're all good.

If you plan a picnic at Munn's Creekk Park, the biggest pest isn't the ants; it's Buddy.

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