When I came out to get her, the back gate was pushed open, and Lola had r-u-n-n-o-f-t.
I ran in and told Matt, then got in my car, fruitlessly searching. After two trips up, down and around the four block radius, I came back, told Matt I had to leave for work, and I promised to call our vet, the emergency vet and Animal Control as soon as I got to work. Matt got in his car and headed out to see if he could find her.
For most of my ride to work, I was thinking that we'd had eleven good years, and it was all my fault, and I'd never see her again. I called Matt to tell him to leave the back gate ajar for her in case she came back, and he'd just found her one street over, shivering, sniffing bushes, and happy to get in his car and eat a dog biscuit.
So. Lola has lost her yard privileges, I have lost my Mother of the Year medal, and Matt is, as usual, my hero.
All's well that ends well.
In other news, I have a cold. I am beyond annoyed, but what can you do? Me, I can blow my nose. Repeatedly.
For now though, I am glad to have my little family safe and sound.