Yesterday marked one month without Noodle. I felt her absence strongly on Tuesday when I returned home from a trip. Often, reuniting with the dogs is the highlight of coming home from vacation. But on a shuttle at the airport, it struck me that Noodle wouldn’t be part of the welcoming committee for the first time since 2012.

When I realized this, my heart felt like it was caving in on itself. I was, of course, excited to see Magpie and Benny, but it was painful to accept that the Threagles have been disbanded.

A gift arrived from a friend yesterday. When I opened the box, I suspected it was a Noodle gift of some kind because it was from Etsy. I kept my emotions together as I admired the commemorative heart-shaped rock engraved with Noodle’s name and a paw print. But, when I picked it up later in the afternoon to carry it out to the yard, the heaviness of the stone paralleled the crushing feeling in my heart.

As I sat at my desk working yesterday afternoon, I saw a dog dart across the street. Moments later, I saw a person hurrying after the dog. Her initial attempts were unsuccessful, so I got up, leashed Benny, and grabbed a bag of treats to try to help capture the dog.

When I got outside, the woman rushed over to me.

“Have you seen a dog?”

“From the window. I saw it run across the street and came out to help.”

“Thank you so much.”

We got relatively close to the dog, Ryder, several times, but then he’d bolt. He clearly considered it a game, but the woman, who was actually a pet sitter, was not amused.

She asked me to try to keep eyes on him while she went in to get a leash. She was sobbing when she returned.

“This has never happened before. I was trying to put a Chewy delivery inside, and he ran out the door,” she explained. She kept repeating, “This has never happened before,” through tears.

I assured her that we would find him, but she didn’t seem to believe me at that moment. I kept walking around the general area and whistling for the dog.

At one point, he ended up in a yard that was enclosed, and I knew this was our chance. She went in to try to leash him while I hurriedly rolled the trash can to block the fence opening. But, as I worked to get the trash can in place, he squeezed his way out and ran across the street in the direction of his house.

He finally lost interest and surrendered in his own yard, allowing the pet sitter to get the leash on him.

“I owe you my life,” she said. “I’m just glad he’s safe,” I responded.

I was grateful to be distracted from my computer at the exact right moment to see the dog bolt out of the house. And I’m glad Ryder is back home.

It all felt like an appropriate way to honor the Noodster. She only made a few escapes in her time with me—the longest being maybe 90 seconds—but I can still feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins when I envision her prancing down the street.

Such a sweet little booty.