Updated: March 1, 2021
Originally Published: February 26, 2021
The week after my partner and I returned from our honeymoon, we decided to adopt our first dog. Bella was just a year old and had already been passed around to three different homes. We cherished her for the duration of her life. Bella was there for me through the heartache of losing two pregnancies and welcomed our sons when they arrived. She moved with us from our first apartment to various places until we could finally afford a home with a spacious fenced yard and a dog door just for her. At the age of fourteen, we said our goodbyes, laying her to rest beneath the big pear tree outside our bedroom window—her favorite spot to watch birds and lazily bark at squirrels.
I’m not typically a “dog person,” but Bella had a special place in my heart. When she passed, I thought we would take a break from having a dog, but just days later, I realized that wouldn’t be the case. My kids were heartbroken, my partner was upset, and the house felt empty without the sound of her little paws on our hardwood floors.
I set some guidelines for our next dog: a shelter pup, small to medium size, housebroken, and preferably non-shedding. I was ready to wait for the right fit.
Two days later, my partner sent me a photo from our local shelter. The dog was an 8-week-old puppy, clearly not housebroken, destined to grow larger, and that wiry coat would definitely shed everywhere.
I had scrolled through countless puppy pictures before without feeling a connection, but one look at her adorable face told me I wanted her to be part of our family.
The shelter received hundreds of applications from across the country. When we visited her, my boys were in tears when we had to leave. It took everything in me not to cry, too. The thought of that sweet pup spending another night in the shelter was unbearable. I assured my boys that if the shelter didn’t pick us, we’d find another dog soon.
As luck would have it, the shelter chose us. Out of all those applications, we were the fortunate ones.
We named her Luna, and she’s been part of our family for over two years now. She transformed from an adorable puppy into a stunning adult dog. Her wiry hair has become a wild mess that seems to require grooming every hour. Luna has a fondness for mud puddles and loves to steal dish towels and toys from the kids. She lets me style her hair into ponytails and has always been gentle. We’ve never heard her bark indoors, and she is truly the sweetest dog we could ask for.
Except for one minor detail.
She’s a runaway. Fast as lightning. If she spots an open door, she dashes out before you can even blink. She always returns, but it’s anyone’s guess how long she’ll be gone, where she’ll wander off to, or why she thinks this behavior is okay.
Fortunately, she doesn’t dig under fences or leap over them. (Well, there was that one time last spring when she found a gap in the fence, rolled around in mud, lost her ID tag, and visited the new neighbors two houses down—who thought she was a stray and gave her a bath. I was mortified, but she came back smelling like roses.)
Luna’s escapades often coincide with my son, Jake, who is nearly 5 and seems to think doors are optional. He leaves the front door wide open, and Luna knows her chance at freedom is just waiting for that moment. She has the patience of a saint. When she hears my car pull into the driveway, she scampers outside and watches us from the fence. If my partner is with me, she stays put. But if I’m alone, she sneaks to the dog door and bolts through the house at lightning speed, zipping out the front door to freedom.
Before I can even comprehend what’s happening, she’s three houses down, barking at a friendly bulldog named Duke. Duke happily jumps his fence to join her, along with the neighbor’s toothless chihuahua. I’ve even seen them roaming around with a stray cat. It’s like a scene from a cartoon, only it’s not cute at all, and super embarrassing.
Last night, I noticed that Duke’s owner installed an invisible fence. I can’t help but think Luna had a hand in that. (Okay, let’s be real—she totally did.)
In the time Luna has been with us, I’ve chased her on foot while pulling a toddler in a wagon. I’ve waddled through the neighborhood, heavily pregnant, calling for her in tears because, let’s face it, pregnancy hormones are no joke. Once, I even stood on the porch, shaking a box of treats, hoping to lure her back with the sound of a makeshift maraca.
The ultimate low point of my dog-chasing saga was driving through the neighborhood at 5 mph, holding hot dogs out the driver’s side window, hoping she’d catch a whiff and hop into the car.
Last spring, Jake threw the door open to greet his brother coming home from school, and Luna took advantage of the opportunity. Instead of coming back, Jake tossed his backpack into the yard and dashed off after her.
I frantically tossed Jake (and my newborn daughter!) into the van and sped off after Henry, who was nowhere to be found. Panic took over. I drove up and down the street, screaming his name out the window, convinced he had fallen into an old-timey well. Luna may be sweet, but she’s no heroic Collie; she wouldn’t come to the rescue.
After a tense interaction with a neighbor who thought I was yelling at him instead of searching for my missing child, there they were—Jake and Luna, trotting out from behind a stranger’s house, Luna obediently at his side, while Jake beamed with pride.
It was the first time in my life I laughed and cried at the same time, maniacally, like a cartoon villain. My kids and Luna were all terrified.
Luna’s latest adventure involved her bolting out the door while still damp from a bath, without her collar. She spent the night in someone’s garage, and I spent the night calming my crying children who feared she was lost forever. Thanks to social media, we got her back the next day. Thankfully, she’s been home without incident for a couple of months now. Perhaps that night locked in a garage was her version of canine “Scared Straight.”
I can already hear the judgmental dog owners thinking I should find a way to outsmart her every time. Believe me, I’ve tried. She’s quick, and I’m often distracted. But we’re doing our best. Luna is warm, well-fed, and loved by our family of five. She has a fenced acre to play in, a dog door, a cozy dog house, and everything a pup could want. She’s just a mischievous spirit who loves to run. Can’t blame her for wanting to stretch her legs.
In every other way, Luna is an exceptional dog. She’s sweet, affectionate, and incredibly gentle. She enjoys snuggling up to me while I write and is a calming presence in our home.
It’s hard to believe that the adorable puppy we adopted is the same rebellious dog that, every now and then, gathers a motley crew and takes to the streets.
For more insights on pregnancy and home insemination, check out this excellent resource on artificial insemination. If you’re interested in more stories like this, be sure to read about other experiences on this post.
Here are some related queries you might be curious about: what to do if your dog runs away, best practices for training a puppy, how to keep your dog from escaping, tips for adopting a shelter dog, and how to care for a new puppy.
In summary, despite the slight chaos that Luna brings into our lives, she’s truly a beloved member of our family, embodying the spirit of adventure and joy that every pet should have.