I was making my ritual morning coffee. My little dog Pace sat looking up from my feet as usual waiting for his ritual morning raw egg. I cracked a fresh one into a bowl on the house truck floor. Big Bruno got 12 eggs and Pace got one. I savored the rich aroma of coffee with cream looking at the far-off hills thinking about where we might venture off hunting the next day. As a pair of noisy paradise ducks flew overhead I looked up to see if they were going to land in my paddock and present themselves as a possible meal to my handy 410. When I looked back down Bruno was looking up at me like he wanted more eggs. His big old head and sad round eyes convinced me that he did in fact require another 6 eggs. As I have grown soft in the last few years I cracked another half dozen into his bowl. I decided Pace could have another one too. It was about at that point that I realized Pace was no longer in the house truck. I gave a loud whistle then called his name while cracking an extra egg into his bowl expecting him to run through the house truck's only door at a hundred miles an hour into our bug mobile kitchen. The solitary raw egg sat there in his white bowl with no Pace insight. Bruno looked up at me once more with those big sad hungry eyes as if to say, well boss? '' Ok boy, eat up''. The pace was gone. He had been a week without a hunt and had decided while my head was pointed skyward to the paradise ducks that this was the perfect opportunity to leg it and head North on his own adventure.
I had a million things to do this particular morning and all of that had just gone out the window as I now jumped into my ute on a mission to find Pace.