We had rescued Pepper from the Warren County Animal Ark just two weeks before. He is an exceptionally sweet mutt, about 25 pounds, with some Schipperke lineage according to the shelter and vet.
We had just stepped outside for an evening stroll and noticed a deer in the front yard. Pepper was excited, naturally. Frustrated by the leash, he began to make vertical leaps, spinning in the air like a gymnast. Adorable and amazing!
What we didn't realize (and which we would chastise ourselves about for hours later) is that his leash was attached to the ring holding his tags, instead of the leash attachment point on the collar. The thin wire pulled open from the force of his leaps. Pepper was off.
Pepper took off like a rocket down our long driveway toward the deer. The deer dodged into the woods, but Pepper continued up the driveway toward the road, having caught some scent or trail. I followed at a full run, but knew I had little hope of catching up.
We searched until dark, our spirits falling by the minute. I drove the neighborhood while Kate walked the trails through the woods. That evening, Kate strolled through the yard every hour or so calling his name. I left some lights on after we went to bed, hoping they would be a beacon for the lost pup. Neither of us slept well, and I got up a few times to peak out the front door.
The next morning, Pepper was still AWOL.
Kate and I were dejected. We of course rehashed all the things we should have done to keep from losing him in the first place. We cried. I chastised myself for crying over a silly lost dog, when others in the world face illness, violence, hunger, abuse. We cried some more. I wondered if he had decided that life as a house dog just wasn't his thing. I wondered why he had left us, if maybe he didn't really love us. We had tried so hard to do something good, rescuing a dog from possible death to give him a loving home and good care. We ached over what tragedy may have befallen him, alone to face coyotes, cars, big stray dogs.
We did all the things you're supposed to do when you lose a dog. I e-mailed the neighbors. We posted flyers. We searched some more. We made plans to check with the local shelters in the days to come. It felt cold and mechanical, as we were nearly drained of hope.
I told myself that there were a million other dogs that needed homes, and we would adopt and love another. I still felt hollow.
And then we found him.
Daisy and I were walking a distant trail on the property, which seemed a long shot since he had run fast and far in the opposite direction. But we hadn't searched there yet, it felt like I was maybe doing something useful, and it passed the time. I had been calling his name and whistling every couple of minutes, but not with much enthusiasm. Kate was driving the neighborhood.
He was practically next to me before I even saw him, wet from an evening in the rain. He was clearly ecstatic to have found us, and my heart melted.
I grabbed him by the scruff, and dragons could not have torn him away. I quickly secured him with a leash, although I think he would have gladly followed me home without it.
I called Kate, got the answering machine, screamed and sang the news, elated.
There are many joys far greater than finding a lost dog. There are far worse tragedies than losing one. There are untold numbers of dogs who live in shelters, on chains, on the streets, hungry or beaten. And that tragic fact pales when considering that there are 842 million hungry people in the world. We live in an age when so many lives are affected by war, violence, illness, and it is staggeringly mind numbing. Our best efforts to do good fall tragically short, or are met with complete failure.
Yet these are the things we can do; give a couple of dogs a good home, lend a hand to a neighbor, offer a shoulder to a grieving friend, join a group that fights for justice. These are the things we can do. And one day, I believe we will find that, in spite of the seeming futility of our efforts, it all made a difference.
See what I did there? I got another pet picture posted on the internet.
