This is Sixty

and the Beagle Diaries, continued.

A beagle puppy yearning for her freedom

Last week, she ran away.

It was before eight o’clock on Sunday morning and the weather was caught in a springtime rain that’s somewhere between miserable and nurturing. Our yard is fenced. For the most part, the deer in the neighborhood are indifferent to this, but we really thought we’d Beagle proofed it and that she wouldn’t find her way out.

Gosh, were we wrong. I had a thousand things to do and needed to start the day. My husband was still asleep when I came downstairs to let the pooches out, start the laundry, make the coffee and begin the usual rigmarole. Five minutes later, Toby came back in, but Lucy did not.

Scouting the feral cat buffet

There are several good places to hide. The side of the house has a large shrub, inside of which a critter can have alone time. Under the deck is filled with possibility, and of course the side of the garage is great, because our neighbor’s compost is quite close. I’m sure a hound can stand there and take in deep breaths to imagine everything that’s turning back into earth. But Lucy was in none of those places. She had managed to wheedle her way into the composting neighbor’s yard before. It’s a beautiful piece of property, with a stream and glorious plants of all description. It also has a covered area with some food for the feral cat who comes by from time to time.

For Lucy, the set up is irresistible. More than once, she’s slipped under the fencing to partake in this delectable buffet. However, on that morning, she wasn’t there. I heard barking on the other side of the property behind their house, which is divided by a tall stockade fence that she had managed to slip under.

“Lucy, Lucy!”

I heard her bark again. I grabbed the leash and headed to the side street to try and meet her on the road along the back. There is no other way to access it. To have hopped in the car would have been useless. “Lucy, Lucy!”

By the time I got there, she had gone. I walked up and down that street, calling her name. I ran back along our street, still calling, then over to our house in the hope that she’d returned. By now my husband was awake.

“She’s gone,” I told him.

Lucy is microchipped, but I don’t know how that works nor how one notifies the people who have her information. I did know that the cops in our neighborhood are really great, so I called 911.

“What’s your emergency?” the woman said.

“I don’t think this is an emergency, but my puppy is missing!” I could barely keep the hysteria out of my voice. “She’s a Beagle.”

When I was little, we had a beagle named Baby Jane. She used to gallivant with our bloodhound named Delilah. There were loads of deer near our house, and very few fences. Needless to say, my parents failed to hang on to Baby Jane. But that was fifty three years ago.

Since turning 60, I’ve had the following revelations.

1. It is possible to live to be 60. Personally, I had believed that would never happen.

2. Living to be 60 indicates that you may not be as much of a dumbass as you feel, that you do indeed have some experience at remaining alive.

3. However, life is short. If you think about the big picture, there really is not much time at all. For all the years in which the days and months felt interminable, when I look back at them, they’ve gone by in little more than a flash.

I had just hung up the phone with the nice police officer when I saw my husband walk Lucy up the driveway with our older dog, Toby, bringing up the rear. I called 911 back and thanked them for talking me down. Truly, the police in our town are very kind.

Since then, the backyard fence has been met with greater scrutiny. Additional security measures have been implemented. But Lucy still walks back and forth, back and forth, looking for an opening that she just might squeeze through.

As for time and the big picture, consider this, Reader:

If you are sixty and you live to be eighty, and you see your loved ones four times a year, that means you have eighty visits left. It goes by so quickly! This has forced me to realize that much of it (i.e. the things we long to do), might remain unattainable, and that sometimes, one must simply surrender. Because there isn’t a lot of time. Do what you can to master and realize that thing which is closest to your dream. The other stuff will have to wait. If there’s time to spare, you can embark on those ventures later.

Plotting their next venture