"F*CK! I lost the damn dogs!"

At least, that's what ran through my mind this evening. The dogs, one a wire-haired jack Russell and the other a yellow lab, were whining and licking me. I just had them outside for an hour and guess they wanted attention while I had work to do (in addition to procrastination). I put them on the screened-in patio and kept the sliding door open into the house. Their partner in crime, the cat, also joined them.

I started laundry and continued packing for the move. Something told me to go check on them and SHIT!!! In the corner, I saw a screen panel dislodged and the three beasts were missing. All I could imagine was that movie with talking dogs and a cat traveling the country. "Had they made their break to the Smokeys to find their owners?" I thought.

Remembering too many stories of naked women running out of the house to catch the stray dog (remember, I was doing laundry) I frantically threw on some cloths and began calling their names. Luckily, the cat was in the house. I imagined the worst for the dogs, picturing them running down the middle of the road, dodging traffic, acting clueless- which has happened before.

But, I found them next door, running down the sidewalk and away from the house. When I sternly called their names, Phil and Luke (guess I could be out calling for little boys), they stopped, turned around and almost grinned at me. Knowing I was pissed, they came running up, ready to play and a look of innocence in their eyes.

I wonder, since dogs have a "pack" mentality, can they help me "pack" for the move?