I awoke to a disturbing realization: my daughter, who had risen just before me, asked, “Where’s Suzi?” And my heart sank. “What do you mean?” She was not on her bed in the hall, or anywhere in the house. How could Suzi be missing? Then, I recalled. I let her out the back door, around 8 p.m. last night, and said out loud to one and all, “Everybody, Suzi is out! We need to remember to let her back in!” She has, in her old age, given up barking or scratching to be let in, but lies down politely on the doorstep waiting. Charlie, of course, makes all the noise a dog can make when he’s ready to be let in. When my daughter and her boyfriend left, they went out the front door. And we went to bed soon after. Of course, I ran outdoors in pajamas and boots, checking all the entrances, checking around the whole house. No Suzi. In the freezing cold. Left out all night. A crushing blow. Frank went out and looked. I jumped in the car, drove up the driveways of neighboring houses. No sign of Suzi. Deaf, and skinny and hobbled by arthritis. Where could she be? I knew it was my fault. How would I ever forgive myself? I drove home. No Suzi turning up. I wrote an urgent message on Next Door Sherborn; Frank called the Sherborn police. They didn’t know of anything; then quickly called him back. A dog of Suzi’s description had turned up at the police station in Millis––the next town! We called, and they were sure, sure, they had our Suzi. She had been turned over in the middle of the night to animal control, who took her to the shelter. My daughter and I jumped in the car, drove to the police station, trying to find out where the shelter was. Suzi was alive! How did she ever get to Millis???? We live down a very very long driveway, and she never goes up to the road. The police said he’d call the animal control soon, it was still early, and he’d call us back to say where we could get her. Dear dear Suzi. What a survivor! Somehow, she had gone through the woods or down the driveway, crossed Rt. 27 and headed up the road toward Millis, where, somehow, around midnight, she was picked up by a lovely person and driven to the Millis police station. What an adventure! What a survivor! Before we found her, just before Frank called the police, he said to my daughter and me: “I’m so sorry. It’s on me. I forgot to let her in.” And I thought, well, that’s just like Frank. Instead of blaming me, he was taking responsibility for the terrible error. Yet, it was my error. And I thought, how grateful I am to be part of a family that takes responsibility for something gone wrong, instead of assigning blame. Suzi looked so perky and sweet, her always sweet self, when she came home. Nothing but love in her eyes for us. So dogly, forgiving us all our human limitations.