Some things we will never know

Some things we will never know, stories left untold until the end of time. The gate was only opened a crack, but the whole wide world welcomed my dog today. What she did out there is locked away without a key. 

Alice Thundercracker has what she needs inside the fence: a few tennis balls, a couple of bones, an earless cabbage patch doll. Yet her wanderlust sent her springing for the open road. To sniff the pile of yard debris next door? To follow a rabbit's scent across the way? These assumptions are low-hanging fruit, too obvious. I can imagine her darting from property to property. I can guess that she paraded her freedom for her friends still held captive in their homes. 

It's worth noting that she knows the shortcut to the field at the end of the cul de sac. The expanse includes a cluster of trees where a hawk presides. A substantial tangle of brush is home to countless small rodents. Where middle schoolers typically throw frisbees and play tag, the green expanse is begging for visitors to break into a sprint. On the edges are benches where the remains of school lunches are a cruel temptation. There's no chance she could have overlooked crumbs of chicken nuggets, a little fruit leather, or (thank you, Jesus) peanut butter. 

Not every moment of history is recorded. When the good Samaritan a few doors down escorted Allie home, we hadn't even realized she was gone. Her return, however, was impossible to ignore for the heinous odor she brought with her. How and why she coated herself with a mashup of manure and dead animal is the question of the hour.

Now bathed, she rests in the spring sun while her adventure plays like a song that only she can hear.