It was nearly midnight. The LSH was taking the dogs out for their final wee while I gathered bit and pieces from the living room and brought them into the kitchen. I walked into the kitchen just as the LSH came in from outside, looking vaguely stunned.
"You won't believe what I've just done," he said.
I looked. He didn't have to tell me.
Cinnamon, the quiet, well behaved, sensible and generally obedient dog was standing by his side - on the leash. Cookie, the rambunctious, disobedient wannabe-cat, chicken and mole-killer was presumably running riot outside somewhere, free.
Yes, he'd clipped the leash onto the wrong dog.
I put on hat, coat and scarf (it was -3 outside) and picked up a torch, while he got the squeaker from an old dog toy, hoping it would attract Cookie. We went outside and listened - nothing. Of course, she wasn't wearing her harness with the bell attached. How on earth were we going to find her in the dark?
Next thing I saw her eyes glowing in the light of the torch as she whizzed towards us... and past us, intent on following all the delectable scents left by chooks and cats. She zipped backwards and forwards for a few minutes, ignoring the squeaker and the treats we were waving at her (and feeding to Cinnamon).
Then, a miracle, and a big mistake on her part - she headed into the garage. We legged it after her and pulled the double doors shut. She still didn't want to be caught, though, and ran around investigating all the smells in the garage, until she disappeared into the back left corner and stayed there. I followed her, wondering what was keeping her occupied.
Ugh. Our neighbourhood cats have made that corner of the garage into a toilet and she was busy stuffing her face. Yeuk.
I caught her easily while she was distracted. No, Cookie, you're not kissing my face again for a while!
Note to Self : There's a very good reason for keeping the garage doors shut.