The Dogs Ate Our Palm Sunday

So we're all dressed and ready to go to church. We call the dogs, who've been outside engaging in their morning constitutional. No dogs.

We then see the dogs, across the property in the neighbor's yard, looking up into a tree.

We call the dogs. The dogs run in the other direction.

We call the dogs again and again. Finally the younger one comes scampering back home. The older dog remains staring up at a tree.

We call the older dog again. The younger dog squeezes through the open patio door and runs back out to be with the older dog.

We call the dogs again and again. We promise rides and treats and other happy dog fun time. Then we use our Mom voices. No response.

We look at the clock. We cannot make it to church.

We sigh.

The dogs come home.