A side from the noise I was making, the yard was hot and utterly quiet. My large dog raised his head in my general direction, but only to be polite. He took a moment to acknowledge the racket I was making with all of my clapping and yelling before resting his chin back down on his paws. His was the reasonable response to a flurry of clearly frantic and completely fruitless activity; our puppy was nowhere to be found. I should have been nauseated, dropping to sit on whatever might be keep me from falling directly onto the concrete slab patio when I realized she wasn’t where Scott told me he’d left her. I was neither sick nor weak-kneed, however, because this was the…