John and I were ended our date night last week over a cup of coffee at a local coffee shop. After a few minutes, our conversation turned to blogging, and I was telling him that sometimes this whole blogging thing feels hard for me to navigate. Take the story of losing Jack-the-beagle last week. I didn't report anything that wasn't true, but I omitted some things in the re-telling of the story that made things look a little "neater".
The real story is that I was freaking out when I saw that Jack had escaped. I was furious at my son for not paying better attention to where Jack was when he opened the front door, and I let him have it when he returned home (bawling) without the dog (as if he wasn't feeling bad enough). I was frustrated that I had to take an hour out of my morning to go search for the dog (remember, I had guests coming that afternoon) and I had already had to stop and clean up dog vomit that looked amazingly like the Peeps that had disappeared from the kids' Easter baskets the night before. I was frustrated that Jack wasn't wearing his collar, and even if he had been, we haven't bothered to make a new id tags for Jack with our contact info on it...and we've had Jack since November. I was frustrated at myself, at the dog, at my kids, and at the situation. Ugh.
John asked me why I left those parts out. I dunno. I just did. Maybe I didn't want to look like a bad mom. Maybe I just didn't want to make an already long story even longer. Maybe this, maybe that...I really don't know.
I talked to John's brother last night for a few minutes. He was telling me that their dog escaped last week too, and that the story that played out at their house was nothing like ours. I felt the need to assure him that it was probably more similar than he knew...
I've apologized to Will for losing my temper with him. It was a mistake, and mistakes are fixable and forgiveable. The most important thing is that we found Jack (and he now has new id tags!)
So...there's the rest of the story for you.