Heart Attack!

I was gone this morning for four hours hanging out at the CDC (child development center). I get home and open the slider (sliding glass door) and call for Monty. "Monty!" No pat-pat-pat. No hehehheheh (panting), nothing. I check the garage and inside the house. Where the heck is Monty? I go out and check the gates to see if they are open. Nope. Locked. I go back inside and call my neighbor across the street. She had been gone most of the morning and hadn't seen him. I call our vet to see if someone had brought him in like last time. Nope. They referred me to another pet clinic. Nothing. I grab my purse and leash and head out into the neighborhood. Any person outside I ask if they've seen a black dog. Nope. I drive around and around and around. After a half hour of getting dizzy, I return home hopeless. I reluctantly drag myself in the house not wanting to make the dreaded call to Matt. (He was ticked off at me last time Monty got away) Wait. I heard a noise that sounded like a Monty whine. Do I dare hope? I run inside and look towards the slider. There is the big, fat oaf panting at the door. I let him in and admonish him for almost giving me a heart attack. He is panting as if he had just gotten back from an outdoor adventure. He comes in and lays his body on the ground. Then he turns towards me and says, "Make me some blueberry pancakes, bitch!"