Lost, then Found
This week has been unforgettable in the worst - and best - of ways.
If you know me well, whether you’re a client or friend, you know that my favorite breed of dog is the American Eskimo. In fact, my second “full time job” is my volunteer position as the Rocky Mountain Regional Director for Eskie Rescuers United, a 501c(3) non-profit rescue organization for the American Eskimo breed and mixes. I’m Mom to Milo, a special needs Eskie and permanent ERU foster, and Evo and Echo, male and female Eskies (both rescued outside of ERU).
But fifteen years ago, another Eskie started it all. Rocky is the Eskie that changed my life, and he is the one who “rocked” my life again when my mother informed me that he was missing.
Rocky was a pet store puppy, something that I’m not proud of, but whose puppy-mill-likely beginnings I wasn’t aware of at the age of 14 (neither were my parents). What we knew was that the tiny, fluffy white pup stood out from the rest, and after all of the family members had gone on their own to visit and coo over Rocky, my father finally gave in and told my mom to “Bring the damn dog home!” I think my pleading had gotten the best of him ;)
Rocky was my most beloved friend through the tough trials of high school and beyond. Of course, when I became engaged and moved in with my husband, we weren’t allowed to have pets in the college residence hall my husband managed. I had to leave Rocky at home, though we visited frequently. Years later, my husband and I moved to upstate New York; Rocky stayed behind with my parents, my father’s steadfast companion, and as time passed we realized that my parent’s house would always be Rocky’s Home.
Regardless of the mileage between us, or the three Eskies that I call my own, Rocky is still my baby, still “mine” in the ways of the heart. We’ve been blessed to have him in our lives for so many years, and when my mom called on Tuesday night and began to tell me in a wavering voice that she’d let Rocky out to pee that afternoon (not usually something she’d call to tell me)… I expected to hear the worst … that he had laid down and passed away. The last thing I expected to hear was that he’d disappeared from the yard … our beloved family member was LOST!!
Rocky’s routine had been flawless for those fifteen years. As he got older, we began to let him wander the yard unleashed (though supervised). Over time, my parents let him wander unsupervised, and he returned every time, numerous times a day, until last Tuesday. We guess that Tuesday must have been a good day for a walk. (We can laugh about it now that the story has a happy ending; it wasn’t humorous on Tuesday.)
I’ll be honest - in my upset and fear I reacted with anger towards my parents. Rocky didn’t wear a collar because my father felt it bothered him. He wasn’t microchipped, and my mom had let him outside unsupervised. Now he was missing. Though he’d never wandered away in his long, long life, the opportunity had come and he hadn’t been found in 8 hours. I had to hang up the phone because I was too upset to talk.
When the anger cleared, I hit the internet, posting on every Lost and Found web site that targeted Palm Beach County and my parent’s development. Between a deluge of tears, I emailed the ERU Yahoo Group, posted on every Facebook page I could, imagined the worst scenarios, and collapsed into Evo or Echo’s fur, unable to find the hope that I so desperately needed. I felt so helpless … in Colorado, I yearned to be searching on foot for Rocky in South Florida.
On Tuesday, we all went to bed in tears. We all tried to find Rocky in our mind’s eyes. We prayed he was safe and warm.
Wednesday morning, my mother set out on foot, scoured the neighorhood by car, Lost Dog flyers in hand, knocking on doors of neighbors she’d never even met. By the end of the day, two neighbors recalled seeing Rocky on Tuesday, running down various roads. (We couldn’t fathom our fifteen year old Eskie running anywhere; it was so unlike him!) This at least relieved my fears that he’d been stolen from my parent’s property or picked up to be sold or used in dog fighting (I told you I’d imagined the worst). It wasn’t much, but the sightings infused some hope in me. I still cried on Wednesday, but I cried a little less - although to be honest, I think I was just beginning to go numb.
My sister came over to help my mom post signs to the entrances to my parent’s development. They searched, checked with the town police, and I continued refreshing the Palm Beach County Animal Care and Control’s “Found” page, hoping to see that white ball of fluff. Wednesday had come and gone and there was no sign of Rocky. Neighbors and friends reminded us that it was still early in the search, that their dog had once been lost and came back a week later … we tried desperately to hold onto optimism and hope.
Thursday morning my mother had to have a root canal. Numb and recovering, she hit the streets again in search of Rocky. A neighbor had suggested that she venture into neighborhoods across the street (a busier two-lane road) because there were a lot of kids in that neighborhood and, well, most kids like dogs.
I’m not sure where the house was or how long my mother had been driving when she saw the sign: FOUND DOG. The photo on the sign was Rocky … !!!!!!!!! I was on my way to walk Mimi and Tuffy, around 11a, when my mom called exclaiming ecstatically, “I HAVE ROCKY! I HAVE ROCKY!”
… and the levee broke, and the tears and relief, pain and celebration, came pouring out of me.
Rocky’s saviors weren’t fluent in English, so my mother isn’t sure how long they had Rocky … long enough to name him “Snowflake,” though, and it seemed that they’d planned to keep him if his owners weren’t found. He had a kid brother and a little canine brother, another little white and fluffy guy sort of like him. Most importantly, he was healthy, he was happy, and my mother forced this kind, wonderful family to take their reward for being so kind to take in our sweet boy.
The relief is overwhelming, and my parents have learned their lesson regarding Rocky’s requirement to wear a collar and tags. They’re planning on fencing their yard, but in the meantime Rocky won’t be let out unsupervised and without identification. He’s on his way to the vet tomorrow to make sure he’s in tip to shape, and my countdown to our Disneyworld vacation has been replaced by the countdown to see my boy!!
Special thanks to my friends and fellow volunteers. The news of Rocky’s disappearance spread like wildfire on the internet. Everyone was sharing his photos and information. Most importantly, though, are thanks to my sister, who created amazing signs and comforted my parents, and to my incredible mother, who went in search of Rocky directly after having had a root canal . . and in 80 degree weather! Without my Mom, Rocky would not be home - I am SO grateful for her!!!
