Never leave a Lamb behind.

Here is a classic shot of Hat Lamb, taken some time before our annual family vacation in Truro.  And this picture, which makes me nostalgic for Hattie even though I could jog upstairs and sniff his Rudy-stinky, floppy body if I wanted to, might've found its way to a LOST poster just a few days ago.  When Hattie was lost.  For reals.  In the end, it was only a brief disaster because of Todd's heroics, but it's a story worth telling.

Here's what happened.  On one of our last days in Truro, Todd brought me and the girls on a bike ride through the Provincetown dunes in the Cape Cod National Seashore.  The Province Lands Trail, which covers approximately seven miles, is just a short distance from several bike rental shops, where we got a bike for Marley, and a bike with a trailer for Todd, Rudy, and Emma.  I rode the bike Todd had recently refurbished for me, my Specialized Rockhopper, which we bought about 13 years ago for our cross-country trip, when I was younger and way more carefree.  I rode that bike with Todd in San Francisco, on trails in Virginia and Colorado, Texas and Nashville.  I cried when I was too afraid to ride it on Slick Rock in Utah, and had to take it back to the parking lot to wait for Todd to take a ride on his own.  And later, we rode together in Acadia, Maine before we had Marley, and then it gathered dust in the garage and eventually became a vessel of parts for Todd to use for his own bike's repairs.  This spring, Todd had a Treat Yo Self moment and bought himself a new bike.  Then he got new parts to rebuild mine.  And on my first real trail ride as a mom, Rudy tossed Hat Lamb with abandon near the amphitheater at the Province Lands Visitor Center before climbing back into the trailer with Emma and without Hattie.

It wasn't until after the ride back to the rental shop, after our errand at a P-Town grocery store, and after we starting preparing a late dinner at the house of hexagons in Truro, that we realized Hat Lamb was missing.  And I had no idea where Hattie was.  We interrogated Emma, and Marley, and Rudy, who claimed she squeezed him out of the trailer somewhere along the path.  That kid has no idea.  Heather was the genius who thought to look at the pictures and videos of our little adventure that I had been sending her with our iPhones.  Thanks, Steve Jobs, who was also a genius.

Then we saw pictures and clips of Hattie in the trailer.  And then I remembered the stop at the Visitor Center and Hattie sailing through the air in an arc as the three girls hopped across about a dozen benches back to where Todd and I were impatiently waiting to continue our ride before it rained.  And THEN, Heroic Todd drove back out to P-Town to the Visitor's Center to check the seats around the amphitheater, prepared to ride the trails around it if necessary, to get Hat Lamb back.

It didn't hit Rudy until I was tucking her into bed, and then her sweet, pathetic sobs brought tears to my own eyes.  I reassured her that Daddy was looking for Hat, that he would do his best to get him back.  "But what if he can't find him?" she wailed. "Hattie is the best one IN THE WORLD!"  And then she whimpered, while hysterical tears ran down her cheeks, "What if he's all alone in the ROAD?!"  It was precious and tragic.  Eventually, she calmed down enough so that I could leave her to go eat dinner, when Todd sent us a picture of Hattie slumped on the pavement beside a bench.  Triumph!  Sweet relief!  Hero Dad!  It was a very happy ending, and a reminder that Hattie needs something like a microchip implant because I don't ever want to see that forlorn Toot again, sobbing exhausted tears over a lost Hat Lamb.