…my own dear foster, Harper Grace. She went out for her usual pee and a last walk round in the garden at 10 last night, and never came back. I got to bed at 2 after a fruitless search, and have spent much of today doing the same. It is very strange, on the rare occasions that she has gone out of the garden she is never far away and, with her excellent hearing, can hear my whistle over at least 300 metres, so I know she isn’t close.
That leaves theft or accident, and I don’t believe anyone would want to steal an 8 year old blind, sterilised, Beauceronne so my dread is accident. In addition to searching fields and forests on foot, I have been kerb crawling all the roads and lanes in the commune and accosting total strangers. Good job we are not in England.