Welcome to the Neighborhood

A loud clap of thunder shook my house as the rain poured. It was already ten a.m., and I needed to be in College Station, one hundred miles away, by noon.

Too bad I hadn't already loaded up Sadie, my singing dog, into the car before the thunder hit. Then she couldn't have escaped. Among the many issues Sadie had, fear of thunder topped the list, and instead of coming in the back door when I called her, she took off running.

I called out to her from the kitchen, but she wouldn't come, so I walked outside in the pouring rain. "Sadie, Sadie, come here, Sadie," I begged. I couldn't find her anywhere in my backyard, so I figured she was in her hideout. I got a flashlight and squatted. The beam found her beady little eyes three or four feet back under the deck.

"Come on, Sadie. It's okay. Come on out," I coaxed in my sweetest voice. I knew if I sounded irritated, the chances of her coming out were nil. Sadie didn't move. Even after I tied a dog biscuit on a string and threw it under the deck, she stayed put. I was running out of time, and I was soaking wet, but I couldn't leave without the dog.

Back inside, I zapped a frozen turkey wiener, put it on a stick and returned to Sadie's hiding place. I wagged the wiener in front of her. She licked her chops but didn't move a muscle to come toward me. This dog wasn't biting.

The thought of crawling under the deck to get the dog didn't appeal to me one iota, but a girl has to do what a girl has to do. I glanced around my wooded backyard, and since no one was in sight, I took off my wet summer dress and laid it on the deck. Wearing only my matching blue underwear, I lay down on my stomach and using my elbows, inched myself along through the mud under the deck. I tried not to think about snakes and rats that were probably hiding out in this dungeon. When I was a few inches away from Sadie, I took the hot dog, which I had stuck in my bra strap, and held it out to her. Sadie moved toward me for a lick. That's when I grabbed her collar.

Backing out, pulling a fifty-pound-dog, was harder than going in. I couldn't let go of Sadie because she'd crawl back to her hiding place. I managed to get her out and into the laundry room and then drag her to the bathroom. I'd never taken a shower with a dog, but that's exactly what I did while my wet dress spun around in the dryer.

The rain stopped by the time I finally got the clean, damp dog into the car. As I started to back out of the driveway, my next-door neighbor ran up to my car. I rolled down the window and heard him humming Blue Moon.

"Ever since you moved here a few months ago, we've been worried that you might not fit into our neighborhood," he said. "We thought you might be too fancy and cultured for our taste. But when I looked out my back door and saw you half naked, wearing only your blue undies and rolling around in the mud, we decided on the spot that you'll fit right in. Welcome to the neighborhood!"

Click here to read more excerpts from Finding Magic in the Mundane.