I lost Einstein

It is hard to understand how a St. Bernard puppy that comes to my hip can be misplaced, but I did it. This is a good size apartment in the mountains, three bedrooms, double living room and several balconies.

I was writing but periodically between paragraphs and P-runs I would check on the dog, make sure he had a cuddle or two.

It was cuddle time but the dog wasn’t on his rug. I called. Nothing.

I checked the bedrooms. Nothing.

I checked the balconies. Nothing.

I checked the kitchen and dining room. Nothing

I looked in the two bathrooms. Nothing.

He did not respond to my increasingly frantic calls.

Since he isn’t a jumper I wasn’t worried he had jumped over the balcony. He is a lover not a climber.

The front door was closed, but when we came in from the last P-run the phone had rung. Had I left the door open and he had left and then the door closed by a breeze.

Telling his mother who loves him to a point that if she lit candles and incense by his mat I wouldn’t be surprised was not something I wanted to do. Shooting myself, going on the lam for the rest of my life would be preferable.

He wasn’t in the hall. I ran down the five flights of stairs. The front door was open. No Einstein.

A group of pre-teen age boys on their Easter break were lounging around on mopeds.

“Haben Sie Ein Grossen Hundchen sehen,” I asked trying to remember my more than rusty German as well as the German name for St. Bernard. It is the national dog afterall. I held my hand to my hip. They guessed the breed. “Er ist nicht mein. Er ist ein baby." They took off in different directions yelling, “Einstein.” They made bigger and bigger circles. Nothing.

He is such a beautiful dog visions of dognappers danced in my head.

I ran to the biggest road but thank God, there was no body.

I walked back upstairs waiting to make the dreaded call to my friend, who I suspected was about to be my ex-friend if I was allowed to live. I told one of the boys in German and French (we determined that as a backup language) that I was on the top floor if they found Einstein.

I walked back into the apartment. I glanced at the bathroom. In the doorway Einstein gave me, “so where were you” look.

Where was he?

Later he went missing again. This time I found him hiding behind the bathroom door.

As I write this up, he is asleep half in the sun and half in the shade. It is a beautiful sight as is the fact, that I don’t have to hide out and bare the guilt of losing a good friend’s beloved pet.