Anyone who has ever owned a dog has most likely lost it — even if just for a few minutes — and felt that pang of panic. How did they get out? Where did they go? How will I find him? Dogs are lost in a variety of ways. Most of them escape from their home or yard enclosure when their owners aren’t looking. Some are lost accidentally by others or stolen, but most just escape. The more they escape, the more you become uber vigilant about keeping those escape artists home.

I was reminded of this recently when a wayward hound showed up in my front yard. The hound was playing with a neighbor’s dog, both came bounding at my husband while he was raking leaves. My husband hadn’t seen either dog before. Quickly, the neighbor showed up to claim his dog, but said that he had no idea where the hound came from. Luckily, the dog had a collar with the pet’s name and cell phone number on it. I called the number and left a message. In the meantime, I started thinking about some of the dogs I’d lost — and found — over the years.

Canine Escape Artist Awards

*Most Inventive — During college I had a bevy of rescue dogs, including one very smart Siberian Husky named Norman. While attending classes the household was getting calls that he was roaming the neighborhood, yet when I returned home he was always curled up in the living room. Then one day I saw it! The front door would be left open to let the sun in, but the screen door closed to keep the dogs inside. The only problem is that the screen window on the upper part of the door was missing. My jaw dropped as I saw the 80-pound canine leap up and out the three-by-three foot window opening onto the front lawn of freedom. Busted! The mystery was never solved as to how he knew when to come back to cover his tracks. I suspect he knew the sound of my car coming down the road.

*Longest Lost — We had an epileptic dog and one day while out on his run he had a seizure and literally shook himself out of his collar. In his post-seizure daze he wandered off and was lost. This was very disturbing as he needed daily medication to control his condition. He was a purebred Norwegian Elkhound and most people had never seen this breed. We called all the area shelters each day and no one reported that breed in residence. Then the newspaper published the city shelter weekly list of unclaimed dogs heading for euthanasia the next day. On the list was, one male dog, 2 years old, husky/shepherd mix. Someone called me and said to go to the pound and get a visual on this dog. I said that wasn’t my dog. The caller said, “not everyone is a breed expert, go look!” I walked down the aisle and there sitting at the end was my Sydney, barking with a big tick on his head, about 12 hours away from euthanasia. Happy Reunion ensured. That was a lucky break for me and my dog more than 30 years ago before the no kill movement.

*Most Harrowing — We had just stopped at the rest stop for gas on I-95 in New Hampshire just before the bridge heading to Maine. We had three people and three dogs in my compact Datsun. My schipperke/beagle mix Tippy traveled in the hatchback area and I had just put him in his cubby and closed the hatchback after a dog walk. Off we went back on the highway and across the bridge. Halfway across the bridge, sitting in the back seat with my two other dogs, Rodney and Allision, I felt a breeze. The windows weren’t down. I turned to look behind me and saw that the hatchback was open!

“Tippy’s gone!” I screamed. I feared he’d fallen out of the car, off the bridge and plunged hundreds of feet into the icy Merrimac River. “Slow Down!” I said still screaming, not knowing what I would do stopping at midspan. Then looking back across the bridge towards New Hampshire I saw a little black blur round the corner onto the bridge approach. In the middle of the highway, running as fast as his little legs could carry him, was Tippy in pursuit. “Stop! It’s Tippy!” I watched as my little dog got bigger and bigger. It was a miracle he wasn’t hit by traffic. In another blur, in the middle of the highway in the middle of the bridge a car door opened, a little dog jumped in, and a hatchback was slammed shut — twice.

Finally, the lost hound’s owner called back. A few minutes later we met in my front yard and dog and owner were reunited. This hound escape was a simple exit, someone visiting the house had left the front door open. Another lesson learned in our attempts to keep our canine escape artists home.

Lisa Peterson — lifelong equestrian, show dog breeder and award-winning podcaster — blogs about horses, hounds and history at LisaUnleashed.com. Reach her at lisa@lisaunleashed.com or @LisaNPeterson.