In case you've been living under a rock or Garfield has mailed you to Abu Dhabi, you know that our doggie, Kona, has had quite the adventure. I've had several people wanting to know details of the story, so here goes.
On Wednesday, January 22, I had an appointment for Kona to go to the groomers. Since he gets picked up, I need his leash so they can take him out to their van. Well, lo and behold the leash is no where to be seen. Livi, who is usually in charge of it, has no idea where she put it. We scour the house but time is up. In a moment of desperation and stupidity, I gave two lanyards and link them together to make a temporary leash. I explain the situation to the groomers and off Kona goes. I think nothing more of it. The morning progressed as usual and I go to work.
Not long after getting to work, I receive a phone call that Kona is on the run. I am vastly annoyed. Dumb dog. I grumbled to my boss that I needed to go and round up my dog. I completely misunderstood the situation. I thought he was in a fenced in field and was just running from everyone--refusing to be caught. I was wrong.
I make the haul out to Jones, which is about a 20 minute drive depending on how much over the speed limit you choose to go. When I got out there I asked, "Okay, where is he?"
"Well, he was last seen running out through that pasture."
I then really take in my surrounding. There are dense trees. There are pastures with cows and bulls and barbed wire. There are ravines. Oil rigs. Thorns. Thorns EVERYWHERE. You name it. I honestly don't know if he could have chosen a worse place to escape. Did I mention it was freezing cold and raining?
So, with the windows rolled down, letting in the freezing rain, I hollered and scanned. Hollered and scanned. I notified my sister that Kona was missing. I notified my ex-MIL because she lived not far from there. Soon, my sister, my ex, his mom, my parents, and some neighbors are all looking for Kona. No dice. I finally have to give up after spending virtually all day out there. In between hollering, I began to post and notify every shelter, lost pet site, and vet I can think of. Panic begins to set it. Finally, I had to go home. I feel sick. It was dark. The thought of my dog being in the cold and rain and dark was not something I wanted to think about.
The next few days were a blur of hunting and hollering. I realized that I had a gift for summoning cows. Cows apparently love the sound of my voice.
I also realized that many of the "neighbors" (when everyone is so spread out and lives on acreage, it's weird to think of them as such), have big dogs that are not restrained in any way and love to play "Let's rip your throat out."
Posters were up. Neighbors were notified. After a few days, my mom informs me that she has been looking up information of how to catch a lost dog. Everything we'd been doing (calling, whistling, hiking through poo and thorn infested land), is all for naught. Kona was in "feral mode." It's like a semi-permanent state of Fight or Flight. Fan-freakin'-tastic. It basically meant that all people were predators to him. This was hard for me to understand. Why wouldn't he come? He knows us and loves us. He would literally follow me EVERYWHERE around the house. My mind thought of this:
I alternated between being angry at Kona and jagged sobbing bouts. As the days went by, my hopes were on a roller coaster. There were sightings in Jones, so my ex-MIL and I canvassed a neighborhood to be told he was in Jones, proper. So we went there. The next day my sister and I plastered posters everywhere. The Jones police were notified. Kona was swiftly becoming a celebrity, there.
Every time there was a sighting, I would make the 20 minute drive in 10. I would return home frustrated, feeling completely defeated. I knew he was alive, so that was good. We knew the only way to catch a dog in feral mode was lure and trap. One neighbor had a trap that we set up, and my sister found one that the Edmond shelter would loan us. That meant we only had two trap to cover a 5 to 10 mile radius of roaming territory. The odds were just so slim. I had to start preparing myself for the fact that we might never get him back.
Saturday, February 1st, I received a text late in the afternoon. My groomer said there had been another sighting. This was the 10th day. It was the same old song and dance to me. I texted back, asking if I should drive out there. I didn't want to drive out and have him get spooked by more people.
She said that I should come out there. I told the kids I had to run an errand (not wanting to get their hopes up), and off I drove. I was so emotionally drained. I knew I could make this drive in my sleep. I was battle-weary from the emotional ups and downs.
When I was about 2 minutes away from her house, my groomer texted and said, "Get here!" I barely registered it before she texted me a pic of her holding Kona. I immediately called her lest my eyes were playing some kind of cruel joke. "You've got him?" She responded, "Yup! I've got him in my lap." I made the remaining miles in a time that would make professional race car drivers impressed.
Basically, Kona had been running around without food, avoiding becoming coyote chow for over a week. He smelled some neighbors making summer sausage, and decided to answer that sweet, siren song.
The neighbors were about to throw away the flier, but luckily hadn't. Thanks to them (and sausage), I got my furball back.
He was extremely dirty, had burs all in his fur, and he was in a state of shock. I took him home, and he promptly toddled into Livi's room. She burst into tears and buried her face into his fur. After a little bit, she said: "He's dirty and smells."
My sister and niece came over with some Dawn, and we bathed him--carefully extracting burrs as we went. Some of them had burrowed into his skin. We called the vet and made an appointment, and were instructed not to feed him too much too soon. Kona basically snacked here and there and slept.
Kona is fairly lazy and sleeps a lot anyway, but he was rarely awake.
He stayed close to everyone. He wouldn't sleep unless one of us was in the room. Since he was found on the weekend, I took him in on Monday to the vet. Kona disliked this and hid under my chair.
But all in all, he was a good boy. His tests came back okay, and he was given medicine and a probiotic to help his poor system get back to normal. Little furball has settled back into his routine nicely. Biggest challenge now is to keep my mother from spoiling him.
On Wednesday, January 22, I had an appointment for Kona to go to the groomers. Since he gets picked up, I need his leash so they can take him out to their van. Well, lo and behold the leash is no where to be seen. Livi, who is usually in charge of it, has no idea where she put it. We scour the house but time is up. In a moment of desperation and stupidity, I gave two lanyards and link them together to make a temporary leash. I explain the situation to the groomers and off Kona goes. I think nothing more of it. The morning progressed as usual and I go to work.
Not long after getting to work, I receive a phone call that Kona is on the run. I am vastly annoyed. Dumb dog. I grumbled to my boss that I needed to go and round up my dog. I completely misunderstood the situation. I thought he was in a fenced in field and was just running from everyone--refusing to be caught. I was wrong.
I make the haul out to Jones, which is about a 20 minute drive depending on how much over the speed limit you choose to go. When I got out there I asked, "Okay, where is he?"
"Well, he was last seen running out through that pasture."
I then really take in my surrounding. There are dense trees. There are pastures with cows and bulls and barbed wire. There are ravines. Oil rigs. Thorns. Thorns EVERYWHERE. You name it. I honestly don't know if he could have chosen a worse place to escape. Did I mention it was freezing cold and raining?
So, with the windows rolled down, letting in the freezing rain, I hollered and scanned. Hollered and scanned. I notified my sister that Kona was missing. I notified my ex-MIL because she lived not far from there. Soon, my sister, my ex, his mom, my parents, and some neighbors are all looking for Kona. No dice. I finally have to give up after spending virtually all day out there. In between hollering, I began to post and notify every shelter, lost pet site, and vet I can think of. Panic begins to set it. Finally, I had to go home. I feel sick. It was dark. The thought of my dog being in the cold and rain and dark was not something I wanted to think about.
The next few days were a blur of hunting and hollering. I realized that I had a gift for summoning cows. Cows apparently love the sound of my voice.
I also realized that many of the "neighbors" (when everyone is so spread out and lives on acreage, it's weird to think of them as such), have big dogs that are not restrained in any way and love to play "Let's rip your throat out."
Posters were up. Neighbors were notified. After a few days, my mom informs me that she has been looking up information of how to catch a lost dog. Everything we'd been doing (calling, whistling, hiking through poo and thorn infested land), is all for naught. Kona was in "feral mode." It's like a semi-permanent state of Fight or Flight. Fan-freakin'-tastic. It basically meant that all people were predators to him. This was hard for me to understand. Why wouldn't he come? He knows us and loves us. He would literally follow me EVERYWHERE around the house. My mind thought of this:
I alternated between being angry at Kona and jagged sobbing bouts. As the days went by, my hopes were on a roller coaster. There were sightings in Jones, so my ex-MIL and I canvassed a neighborhood to be told he was in Jones, proper. So we went there. The next day my sister and I plastered posters everywhere. The Jones police were notified. Kona was swiftly becoming a celebrity, there.
Every time there was a sighting, I would make the 20 minute drive in 10. I would return home frustrated, feeling completely defeated. I knew he was alive, so that was good. We knew the only way to catch a dog in feral mode was lure and trap. One neighbor had a trap that we set up, and my sister found one that the Edmond shelter would loan us. That meant we only had two trap to cover a 5 to 10 mile radius of roaming territory. The odds were just so slim. I had to start preparing myself for the fact that we might never get him back.
Saturday, February 1st, I received a text late in the afternoon. My groomer said there had been another sighting. This was the 10th day. It was the same old song and dance to me. I texted back, asking if I should drive out there. I didn't want to drive out and have him get spooked by more people.
She said that I should come out there. I told the kids I had to run an errand (not wanting to get their hopes up), and off I drove. I was so emotionally drained. I knew I could make this drive in my sleep. I was battle-weary from the emotional ups and downs.
Basically, Kona had been running around without food, avoiding becoming coyote chow for over a week. He smelled some neighbors making summer sausage, and decided to answer that sweet, siren song.
The neighbors were about to throw away the flier, but luckily hadn't. Thanks to them (and sausage), I got my furball back.
He was extremely dirty, had burs all in his fur, and he was in a state of shock. I took him home, and he promptly toddled into Livi's room. She burst into tears and buried her face into his fur. After a little bit, she said: "He's dirty and smells."
My sister and niece came over with some Dawn, and we bathed him--carefully extracting burrs as we went. Some of them had burrowed into his skin. We called the vet and made an appointment, and were instructed not to feed him too much too soon. Kona basically snacked here and there and slept.
Kona is fairly lazy and sleeps a lot anyway, but he was rarely awake.
He stayed close to everyone. He wouldn't sleep unless one of us was in the room. Since he was found on the weekend, I took him in on Monday to the vet. Kona disliked this and hid under my chair.
But all in all, he was a good boy. His tests came back okay, and he was given medicine and a probiotic to help his poor system get back to normal. Little furball has settled back into his routine nicely. Biggest challenge now is to keep my mother from spoiling him.
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