After a couple of hours, our next door neighbor, Kirsten, stopped by to say goodbye. She was moving out. I knew Ray was going to miss her. She is one of his faves.
We exchanged mournful goodbyes. She is one of our faves also.
"Should I say goodbye to Ray?" asked Kirsten. "Absolutely." I replied, "He's on the porch."
Kirsten approached the porch. Ray stayed lying down but lifted his head and "looked" over his shoulder at her approach. "Aw," said Kirsten, "What a perfect place for a hound dog."
When he realized it was her, Ray lifted his front leg to expose his belly. "She's not going to rub your belly, Ray. She's come to say goodbye." I told him.
Ray stood up to get petted and say his goodbyes (even though he didn't know that's what he was doing). Kirsten left. I returned to work. Ray stood at the babygate, looking dejected.
Two minutes later I turned to see Ray headed up the cul-de-sac. It was a jail-break. I dropped my saw and started running. Gregg dropped his saw and headed for the house to fetch the leash.
"Ray! Ray! Come here Ray!" I yelled as I ran. Ray was headed to William's front door. He was high-stepping it up the walkway leading to the house when our neighbor, Bill (next door to William's) started calling Ray as well. "Ray! Ray!" he called and clapped his hands.
Ray diverted his course and headed for Bill who kept clapping and calling so that Ray could find him. I reached them just as Ray was flopping for a belly rub. Bill bent down to oblige, and Ray, obviously tickled pink that he had escaped doggy jail, rolled on his back, stretched all the way out and kicked his back legs in sheer glee. He was smiling.
Gregg arrived with the leash. Ray was led back to detention but there was a spring in his step. He was still high on the adrenelin rush of his escape attempt. I was amazed at the sheer audacity of the blind hound.