Sometimes, living in a small town can produce large results. Such was the case this weekend, when my mother-in-law’s dog ran away.
We were babysitting little Rolo, a brown and white rat terrier of advanced years. Now Rolo, or “Ro” as we call him, is generally a good little dog, and compared to our two dogs, he is a veritable angel. Ro has always been a dog you could trust. If he gets out of the yard at his home in Quinter, he never travels far nor stays away long.
Saturday morning, that little dog snuck out of our house, with such stealth that at first we thought he was just sleeping out of sight somewhere in the house. A thorough search led us to the conclusion that he was out.
So we hit the streets, both in cars and on foot. We looked under bushes and into backyards. We drove for blocks in every direction. We also told everyone we met about the missing dog.
Reports began to come back of a little brown and white dog running hear and there. We were always a step behind. That trusted little dog had turned fugitive and evaded detection like a criminal on the lamb. Hour after hour ticked by, and still no dog. The police were notified. His owner was informed. She drove back from her trip and came to Hill City to join the search. We thought that Ro would come out of hiding once he heard his master’s voice.
Day turned to evening, and still no dog. We began to speculate that perhaps he had, as some dogs have done, gone “cross country” to follow his internal radar and make his way back to Quinter. Maybe he had hitched a ride. Maybe he was just lost, confused, scared, and sheltering close by.
That night I took the kids to see the local movie, and the ticket seller immediately asked me about the dog. It was at that moment that I began to have real hope that the dog would be found. As far as I knew, we hadn’t asked this person about Ro. The information had made its way around town, and I realized that we had a small town network helping us in our search.
The next morning we received a phone call and then another, reporting seeing a little dog running by their homes. My daughter and I pursued on foot, with my wife manning the phones and my mother-in-law in her car. Based on the fresh leads provided by the phone calls, I was finally able to spot the dog.
I beckoned to Ro, expecting the dog to come to me. We were pals, after all. He has known me for years and I have played with him on countless occasions. However, Ro had grown timid, visibly wary of all people, myself included. He ran from me, but I was able to pursue him (through a back yard, I might add) towards the park by our house. There, his owner drove by, and upon stopping the vehicle, jumped out and called for her dog.
Still he ran. In his exhaustion, in his old age, with failing eyesight and suspect hearing, he did not even appear to recognize his own master.
We caught a break when ran toward the high school. Pursuing in her car, my mother-in-law was able to pull up within a couple of feet, just as the dog stopped to catch his breath. She threw open her passenger door and called as she had done some many times before, “Come on, Ro. Let’s go for a ride!”
He either recognized the car or finally heard the all too familiar invitation, because recognition replaced fear. After a few tentative steps, he abandoned all caution and climbed into the passenger seat as fast as his arthritic legs would go.
As I watched the joyful reunion, full of tears and tail wags, followed by a hot bath and a long nap, I was truly thankful to live in a quiet neighborhood in a small town. We cannot thank enough those who kept their eyes open and called us with up-to-the minute sightings. We cannot thank enough the well-wishers and those who prayed for the safe return of this little member of our extended family.
When I called the police to tell them the search was over, the officer who answered the phone exclaimed, “The lost has been found!” Yes, the lost had been found, thanks to the caring citizens who made possible a small town rescue.
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