autismdadinthe603

If moving was fun, I would have done it often. I hate it. I hate boxes. I hate calling places to change my billing address. I hate explaining the thought process of articulating why I moved. I also hate the disaster of meeting multiple people at a closing, which might be more painful than watching The Karate Kid reboot. However, there is no bigger hate in me than someone leaving a door open while Oscar is pugging around and I can’t find him.

I think we were a legit 10 minutes into the moving truck loading and I couldn’t find my pug. Sawyer laying on an empty living room floor and chomping on his raisins. I was praying he didn’t know that Oscar was gonzo because it would add to the chaos.

Hearing Sawyer speak was and is a blessing. Hearing Sawyer repeat the same line over and over again in a stressful block of time is quite the opposite. So I did my best Ace Ventura and went on the lookout for him.

I should explain that my detective skills are horrendous. I couldn’t find an ice cube in a tray of ice. Ask my wife or friends this. They will agree.

I digress.

Sure enough the, “where’s Oscar?” was in full loop mode. Sawyer knew that he was gone. I let it slip and there was no turning back. So Sawyer came with me next door.

I would love to tell you that we found Oscar next door. Or that we found him 3 doors down. Or that we found him in 15 minutes. Or when we got in my Jeep and drove around the neighborhood. However, we did not.

I will openly admit that I cried pulling in the driveway. My daughter was hysterical and I attempted to reassure her that he would be back.

All I could do was watch boxes be moved and a truck being being loaded. I had Sawyer asking for Oscar non stop and all I could say was he went for a walk. Sawyer took that as he went to go see his mom. Quite frankly, his association that Oscar was looking for his mom was a silver lining. It was a heartwarming connection.

As I looked out into the distance, I wasn’t feeling confident. I went inside in hope that the door would knock and Oscar would be back.

I paced back and forth with tears being wiped away. Sawyer was asking me why Oscar went to find his mommy? Box by box was getting moved.

Then it happened. From a distance I saw a neighbor walking. There was pug who was pugging. And there was a family who was smiling. Oscar came home.

It was that moment that home was those around me and not the place.

Once again and even back with us there was a Sawyer, “where’s Oscar?”

He was back where he belonged.