What Happens in the Backyard, Stays in the Backyard

Where Were You, Dusty???
"Mom," Ethan said as he walked into my room last night. I'd just returned from dinner and was checking my e-mail. I turned around and saw him holding Dusty. I fell to my knees. I couldn't get up. Where's the damn clap-on, clap-off. when you need it? "I found him out on our back deck next to the laundry basket!" he yelled.

I couldn't believe I was looking into the eyes of my beautiful baby again. Ethan brought him up a bowl of food and water that disappeared faster than chocolate chip cookies hot out of the oven.

"Where were you, Dusty?" I asked over and over. But he wasn't talking. "I'll be your ghostwriter. Just tell me your story!" Still, nothing. I'm not sure if he's in negotiations with Random House and thinks he's going to be the next Dewey or Marley, or if he met up with the Foxy Gambino mob with their big, red, bushy tails who warned him if he says one word about their secret outdoor life, they'd knock off our whole family one by one. All I know is he's not talking. But way more importantly, he's home!!!!!!

To all my on-line friends: I can't tell you how much it meant to me to hear your words of encouragement and support. It really did help us stay positive and keep hoping for the best. And, it snowed last night - I would have been an even bigger basket case if he hadn't come home.

On other news, I got a pass from one of the agents. I'm disappointed, but from where I stand the good news far outweighs the bad.
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