Early mornings and cemetery pleas

Shawn had to leave the house at 5. He got out of bed at 4:30. Well, wait a second. I'm ahead of myself already. Around 2:15 this morning, Sebastian jumped up on the bed and curled up beside me, shaking like a leaf. (This means, of course, at some point he got off of the bed.) Then he started to cry. Shawn woke up and groggily asked me what was going on. I explained that there must be a storm a brewin'. We recently discovered that our sweet Sebastian is terrified TERRIFIED of storms. So we cooed him and cuddled him back to sleep. Then we went back to sleep with one dog at our feet and one dog between us his head wedged between our pillows. So Shawn gets up at 4:30. He wakes me up at 5. "Honey? I have to go and I can't find Sebastian." I look at him, puzzled and assuming that this is some kind of dream. "I put him out and came in to brush my teeth and he was gone." I sit up and glare at him until I decide that waiting for the daggers to knock him over and bleed him is just wasting time. I had to find my dog. He goes out to the van and drives away totally ignoring my bitching about how unbelievably ridiculous I find this situation the whole way until finally he says, "Spare me the guilt trip. I feel bad enough. He was out there for a second. Fuck off." And then he drives away with me yelling, "Use the fucking chain, asshole." See, I don't like to be awakened before I have to be. Wake me up with bad news, prepare to listen to me bitch for a little while. But still, come on, we've had this dog for four weeks, he doesn't have his license yet, he may have a history of running. It doesn't take a fucking rocket fucking scientist. Does it? *sigh* So anyway, I sit there smoking a cigarette at 5 in the morning (an hour and 15 minutes before I should be). I have no idea what to do. I whistle, I clap, I make kissy sounds, I call him. After a few minutes of this, I load Sasha into the car and decide to ride around. I drove through the cemetery thinking this is the most likely place for him to go. I looked. Sasha looked. I'm not a praying person because, well, I'm not going to get into that. I'm just not a praying person. But I silently whispered a plea to somebody, anybody that was listening, to please help me find my dog. As I'm driving out of the cemetery, feeling helpless, crying and begging somebody to help me find my sweet Sebastian, Sasha sees something and barks a quiet 'woof,' wags her tail and looks at me. I throw the car into Park, jump out and yell for him. I couldn't tell if it was him or not, it was dark and the dog was too far away. Sasha seemed pretty sure of herself though so I wisely took her word for it. We drove through the cemetery again. I didn't see him. I decided we'd go on foot. So we took the car back home. I went in to get a jacket and the leashes and thought I heard the clanking of a collar. I asked Sasha and Soda Pop to be still since they both wear collars and heard the clanking again. It was outside the breakfast nook window! I opened the door and there he was. He hugged me around the waist like he does and went to get a drink of water. Me, Sasha (the love of my life) and our sweet Sebastian cuddled in bed for a little while until I had to get ready for work. Tears streamed down my face as my cemetery pleas played over and over again in my head.