Ringo: The Journey of an Idiot

So a couple of weeks after Ahmo died, our dog of eleven years, Ringo, decided to blaze through his electric fence and make a run for it. The kids were devastated (all three of them). I was too mad to at him to be upset. I kept thinking, "How dare that punk dog do this to my kids right after they lose a grandparent. How selfish can he be?" I also muttered things like, "I hope you're happy living on the streets," and "After eleven years of eating our leftover spaghetti you would rather eat trash! You're dead to me," under my breath while listening to my children cry at night.

Let's just say it was bad timing.

After 24 hours Andy called all the people you call when your dog betrays your family and officially registered him as missing. I {happily}went about removing all traces of pet dander from the house.

And then yesterday, 67 days later, I am scrolling through my Facebook news feed when I stumble upon this:

With this caption "Older male yellow lab mix, found yesterday in the area of Danforth & Fretz" on the Edmond Animal Shelter page. 

There was Ringo looking very unsad in my opinion. I. Could. Not. Believe. It. And then I found myself at an ethical and moral impasse... About thirty seconds later, I called Andy and told him I thought I had found his dog.

One hour and about $200 later (he manages to keep himself alive for 67 days but loses his very pricy shock collar) we had our dog back - fleas and all!

I suppose this was worth it:

And I'll admit I was kind of happy to see him. As Bode put it, "Our whole family is back together again." And I suppose he is right.