We lost our dog. Fluffy (don't laugh, I named her when I was 5 years old), our one-eyed, blind, deaf, 17 year old dog with liver problems somehow managed to get out from her little enclosure sometime in the night of the 23rd. The next morning my mom and uncle searched for two hours around and under the house, but she was no where to be found. I arrived on the Big Island later that day and we searched again, but we still could not find her. It rained really hard that night and the next two nights. We asked the neighbors, called the humane society, and searched everywhere around the house. Nothing.
Honestly, I'm sad. We adopted Fluffy as a distraction from a larger family issue (unknown to me and my sister at the time), and she's been a part of my life since then. Her health has been declining for a few years, and when I left for Japan in August, I knew there was a good chance that I would never see my dog again. While it's a relief to know that my mom won't come home from work one day to find Fluffy's lifeless body, it hurts to think that she might be cold, hungry, and lost with only the hope that someone will find her.
The image that keeps flickering on close-up on the 3-D IMAX of my mind (who gets the reference?) is of Todd sitting in our red reclining chair with Fluffy in his lap. She loved him, and every single time he came over to my house, she would jump into his lap and stay there while he patted her head.
Anyway, I leave on Saturday to go back to Japan. I'm now 99% sure I will be re-contracting with JET.
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