A Major Award

Ray growled and leapt from his chair. There was a knock on the door. Followed by my curious hound, I went to answer the knock only to see a man in brown drop a package on my front porch. I opened the door, picked up the package, and called a 'Thank you' to the guy's back as he briskly walked across the grass to his truck.

"Oh my gosh, Ray," I said as I looked at the label, "You got a package!"
Hearing this, the hound bolted through the door and sped across the grass towards his new best-friend- who-had-left-him-a-box. The man's pace picked up as he looked over his shoulder and saw the big dog coming after him. But in his excitement, Ray got a bit off course and plowed headlong into a large bush of Russian Sage. The man jumped into his brown truck as I nabbed Ray's collar.

"Thanks," he called to me, relieved.

I smiled and gave the man a wave before I turned and led the happily prancing dog back to the house. I brushed a few sage blossoms from the top of Ray's head, picked up the package, and carried it into the living room with a dog pushing excitedly against me.

My major award!

I knew what was in the box. Ray had entered a contest held by the writer of the dog-blog, Spotty, Spotty, Polkadotty, about the doings of a beautiful cattle-dog mix named Blueberry. In celebration of her dog's adoption, every year Blueberry's owner has a contest wherein she offers a "blueberry pancake" as a prize. This year, Ray had been the lucky winner. (Thank you, Stefanie!)


As soon as I sat down, Ray was at the package. He knocked it to the floor, moved it to where he could comfortably pick it up, then carried it into the front hall where he picked at it with his teeth. Helpfully, I got out a knife and cut the tape so that he could rummage through the contents at will. Excitedly, Ray pulled out the packaging, picked up the gift, danced around the hall, did a couple turns around the coffee table, then headed to the great outdoors to bury his prize.

(video here)

Battered pancakes  

That night, the aroooooo alarm went off. Figuring it was just the fox, I did nothing to investigate. The next morning, Ray's prize was in the middle of the backyard, one corner of the box ripped open but the contents intact. Horrified at the near-theft, Ray carried his prize back into the house and laid Sphinx-style with it between his paws right up until it was time to go for a walk.

On the return trip, Ray jogged the entire way home. As soon as I opened the front door, he ran to his major award, excitedly picked it up, tossed it around a few times, then headed out back to find a better hiding place for it. Obviously, its mauling had been weighing heavily on the poor, blind dog's psyche.

I don't know where Ray buried his prize the second time. But since the box of pancakes hasn't resurfaced, the fox doesn't know either.

Where is he?

I know he's out there somewhere...

What to do, what to do.

That does it, this is coming back into the house with me.