A good friend of mine arrived on the island this afternoon. We made plans to meet up and catch up at his condo tonight. I brought Island Dog along because, hey, she hasn’t had a good walk in a LONG time and this was a great opportunity for her to get some exercise and smell some new smells…as dogs are wont to do…
So we arrived at my friend’s oceanfront pad and spent a good while watching daylight fade at the seafront while catching up and talking about life and all it’s craziness. Meanwhile, Island Dog rambled along the beach and did general dog-stuff. When the mossies got the best of us, we retired to the condo’s second-floor balcony. And that’s where things got more interesting. For us all.
Upon entering the condo, I detoured to the bathroom and let Island Dog wander about. I very briefly wondered if she would be ok on her own, but ultimately thought “how much trouble can she actually get in? There is a railing, after all.”
So when I rejoined my friend for a glass of cold white wine on the terrace, imagine my (and my friend’s) horror when we realized that Island Dog was gone. Nowhere to be found. We looked around the condo. Under the dining table. Under the coffee table. In the corners of the room. Behind the sofa. Everywhere. She was not anywhere.
And then, in slow motion, I turned and went to the open balcony door where I studied the balcony railing, realizing the inevitable. The railing was much shorter than I first thought. In fact, it was about the perfect height for stumpy Corgi legs to hop over. When I realized this I ran, filled with a growing lump in my stomach, to the balcony railing and scanned left and right. Island Dog was nowhere to be seen. What I did see, however, was a rooftop with no guardrail, plunging dangerously to the concrete, 15 feet below.
Suddenly, a woman in the adjacent condo leaned over her balcony rail and said there was a dog wandering from terrace to terrace. Simultaneously, Island Dog popped her ridiculously curious Corgi head over the terrace railing two condo’s away, wondering what all the fuss was about. Probably not such a bad thing EXCEPT that to get back to our balcony, she had to trot across the slanted rooftop that ended with a 15 foot plunge to the concrete below.
Oblivious to the danger, she couldn’t just run straight to me upon calling her. No, my baby had to meander much too close to the edge of the rooftop and slowly make her way back to me. Seriously, both my friend and I and the neighboring woman were holding our breath while Island Dog completed this trek. No amount of promised treats could get her to move faster to me.
She finally got close enough where I could retrieve her. Then, after copious amounts of cuddling and scolding…I’m not sure she recognized the difference…we closed the balcony doors and Island Dog settled in next to my feet so my friend and I could continue our evening. Of course, after the danger passed, my friend and I could not stop laughing at how silly and unexpected it must have looked to the neighbors to see a Corgi walking past their balconies as they enjoyed their evening cocktails.
So in the end, despite the danger and the fear I initially had, Island Dog provided me (and my friend) with the sort of belly laughs I needed (and haven’t had in quite some time). Whoever said laughter is the best medicine was completely right. Just like the person who said dog is man’s (or woman’s) best friend. Right on both counts.
I love my Island Dog. She’s much better than any pill to get me feeling better.