I had a flat tire this morning at 9.00am, and I found my dog Cookie had a cut wound on her side, and told my mom to call the vet.

I let my vet bundle my dog Cookie in the van with a muzzle on.

And once my dad changed my tire, I set off to work — but mom called a short while later to tell me that Cookie broke free and was lost.

I cried.

And I sped off with my dad to find her.

We did, but she ran away as soon as we got close, and as we called her name. She was still wearing the muzzle, and my heart broke when I saw her run away.

Mr T came back all the way from work and helped me in my search, and soon got a call that she was in the exact same spot where we found her the first time. We rushed over there midway through a quick lunch.

Mr T went to her, and tried to coax her, but she soon ran away too. This time faster, and more determined to get away from everyone. She slid down a small hill and she disappeared. My heart sank.

We waited, and walked through every road and residential lanes, to small pockets of hills, calling out her name, clapping our hands.

We couldn’t find her.

It’s now 9.30pm and I’m worried sick. I’ve never lost a pet before and it’s not something I’m ready for.

Please think of her for me.