I launched into a cacophony of barking as I burst out the dog door. As if struck by lightning, the nearby squirrel dropped its acorn and darted away. Here we go! I was right on its tail as we raced around . . . and then it scampered into the street. Normally, the chase would end here. But today, I couldn't believe my luck: the gate was open! I accepted the invitation, dashing out of the yard to continue the game.
I got into my car and took a deep breath. The workday had been tiring, and I still had to hurry home to take Bailey on a walk. And feed her. And maybe try to give her a bath if she'd rolled in something muddy--which she did half the time. It was going to be a long night. As I drove home, these looming tasks stuck in my mind. I had adopted Bailey way back when I was working part time, and everything had changed since then. My boss had even asked why I hadn't already given her up. It would certainly make my day smoother, and it may even be better for her--to get more attention from a family who was home more. But it would be difficult to actually go through with giving her away. Bailey had been my dog for six years, after all. I pushed these thoughts out of my mind as I pulled into the driveway. They were questions I didn't want to deal with tonight. Inside the house, I turned on the lights and braced myself for Bailey's very enthusiastic greeting. Instead, silence surrounded me. Oh well, she was probably just taking a nap. On the bright side, without her under my feet, I was easily able to reach for her leash. "Bailey, time for a walk!" I called, leaning against the doorway and waiting for her to dash my way, tongue hanging out of her mouth. But again, there was only silence. That was odd. "Bailey?" I called questioningly. In the next fifteen minutes, I ended up checking the entire house, including her favorite spots: the couch, the bed, and under the table. No Bailey. Then I stepped into the backyard—and immediately spotted something that made my stomach drop. The gate was open.
My nose was on overdrive, as smells flooded my senses all at once. Sure, I might've lost the squirrel, but now there was so much more to explore! My nose took me into a wooded area, where the fading dusk light shone through the trees and illuminated part of the forest floor. I wagged my tail, trying to decide what to do first: which smell to track, which stick to bury, which tree to mark as mine. I settled on meandering around . . . until I found a unique, intriguing scent rising from the soil. So I began digging, excited that nobody was telling me not to. I was so focused that I didn't even notice when darkness started to overtake the forest, leaving only a tiny sliver of the moon to provide a hint of light.
I grabbed Bailey’s favorite treats, wasting no time to begin a search. Hoping she was still close to home, I decided to start by walking down our street. We always went on walks close to home, so there was a pretty good chance she hadn't gone far--or at least that's what I assumed. "Bailey, here girl!" I called, shaking the bag of treats. A moment later, I heard footsteps from around a corner . . . Of course, I wished it was someone bringing Bailey back. But that would've been too good to be true. Instead, it was just my neighbor Sara, out for her evening jog. She paused when she saw the concern in my face and empty leash in my hand, so I explained that I was looking for Bailey.
"Oh no, I'll help!" She volunteered. "Last year my friend's dog was lost for a week, and it was really difficult for her family."
A week?! I couldn't stand having Bailey lost for a week, out in the world, maybe even starving. As Sara and I continued down the street, I called for Bailey again—and then had an idea. “Hey, maybe we should split up to look for her?” I asked.
"Yeah, and I know some neighbors who might be able to help look," Sara nodded.
As we each started down a different street, I oddly felt loneliness creeping around me. When I thought about it, though, it seemed to make sense--because Bailey and I always went this way together. I sighed in longing, and tried to refocus my mind on the search that every dog owner hopes they will never have to do.
The forest was completely encased in darkness, casting shadows on the gaping hole that I had dug in the thick dirt. This was fun! But now that I was done, I realized how thirsty I was. Was there a water bowl nearby? I panted and circled around in a grove of trees. I tried to see if my nose was any help, but not this time. At a loss, I randomly chose a new direction to go. Soon enough, thankfully, my ears heard the soft, beautiful sound of a trickling stream. Excited by my new lead, I ventured even deeper into the woods.
Five streets and several conversations later, I found myself sitting on a bench to take a breather. I hadn't had any luck finding Bailey, and neither had Sara. At least all the neighbors I'd talked to had said that they'd keep an eye out for her. Thinking I should spread the word more, I pulled out my phone to post on my socials. I chose to upload a photo of Bailey with a frisbee in her mouth—seeing it made my heart ache. Having gone all over the neighborhood without Bailey felt bizarre, and her missing presence left me feeling empty.
I finally arrived at a little stream and joyfully lapped at the water. It felt cool and satisfying. As soon as I'd quenched my thirst, my stomach reminded me that it was past dinner time. I highly doubted that anyone had left out food around here, so I decided to rely on my nose. I wandered fruitlessly for a while, and admittedly disturbed a snoozing chipmunk. But eventually, I caught a somewhat familiar scent on the tip of my nose: Bacon. Lettuce. Tomatoes. Yum! I took off in the direction of this enticing aroma, and soon caught sight of a brightly-lit patio where a group of people seemed to be eating. When one of them leaned over to reach into their backpack, I snatched my opportunity. With impressive speed, I raced up to the table, grabbed the sandwich, and then I was off. "Hey!" Someone yelled from behind. I just ran and ran and ran faster, until I was back into the woods. As soon as I could, I stopped to chow down on my much-needed meal.
My ringing phone startled me back from my daze of walking and searching. "H . . . Hello?" I answered timidly, almost too afraid to hope for the best. But my heart rose when I heard the news from the caller. Bailey had been spotted--near a restaurant that was close by! I wasted no time jumping in the car. I was overwhelmed with relief. On the way there, my mind mapped out everything. I'd reunite with her, we'd go home, have a nice dinner and relaxing evening, and I'd find a way to clear my busy schedule and spend the whole weekend with her. When I arrived, I jogged up to the only group still in the outdoor area. ”You're just a few minutes late. The dog ran up, stole my sandwich, and ran back into the woods," one of them told me. My heart sank again—how could I come so close and still not get Bailey back? It seemed so unfair. Feeling gloomy, I made my way down to a bench at the edge of the forest. All I could do was sit, wait, and hope.
These woods were nice, but they were also exhausting. After a delicious sandwich and a good drink of water from the stream, I almost continued on my way . . . Only to realize that every bone in my body said that I was more than ready for a good nap. But where? While I had my own bed at home, I didn't think a place like this offered that sort of thing. I looked around to consider my options, and my sights fell on a hollow log that was curtained in brush. I made my way over there and curled up. It was a pretty good spot, but one thing was for sure: no one could deny that it wasn't as good as home.
It was late. So late. I wanted to check my phone for updates, but it was dead. I guessed that it had been hours since I arrived--and there was still no sign of Bailey. I didn't want to leave, but I also didn't see how this was progress for my search. I couldn't help but yawn in tiredness. So with a heavy heart, I turned back toward the parking lot, figuring that all I could do at this point was go back home. I wasn't sure how I'd sleep without Bailey there . . . but at least I would try, so I could get an early start searching tomorrow.
The morning light shone in from an odd angle. I woke up faster than usual, and was immediately reminded of the hollow log acting as my bed. Let's just say that it didn't quite get a 10/10 for comfort. And between the hooting owls and active raccoons during the night, you can bet I didn't exactly sleep soundly. I stood up and shook off, eager to finally get on my way. So through the sticks, twigs, and leaves of the forest floor, I let my nose lead me back toward the familiar sidewalks I knew so well.
I dejectedly bit into my toast while checking my phone for updates. Nobody had seen Bailey yet. I'd hardly slept a wink last night, with all the thoughts running through my head. It was undeniable: the house felt bitterly cold without her here. And I just couldn’t shake the nagging urge to pour her breakfast or grab her leash for a walk. As soon as I finished my food, I threw on some clothes and hopped in the car, figuring I'd revisit the same place she'd been spotted at last night. Who knows, maybe she'd come there in the light of day. It was worth a try.
I burst out of the woods and onto the sidewalk, well on my way. But as I turned the corner, one of our neighbors saw me and cried out in surprise. "Oh Bailey, it's you!" He began running toward me. I wagged my tail slightly. It felt a little early in the morning for a game of chase, but if he wanted to, I could be up for it. I turned on my heels to begin trotting in the other direction, and promptly heard some combination of words that sounded like "no, come back!" But with the road noise, I couldn’t be sure what he was trying to say. Anyway, the important thing is that I might've even put in my best performance ever in a game of chase, dashing away with newfound speed. Of course, nobody could catch up to me.
I steered the car into a U-turn and began driving in the opposite direction. Somebody had just reported seeing Bailey, remarkably close to home! I couldn't help but let my spirits soar, thinking that maybe, just maybe, I'd find her this time.
The oncoming cars zoomed by as I slowed my run to a trot, panting heavily. Whew, I'd need a nap later. Just as I was about to pick up the pace again, a car pulled to the curb and stopped right in front of me. I backed up in hesitation. But then I began barking with joy when the driver got out . . . It was Carl! "Oh Bailey!" Carl cried, kneeling down to hug me. I wagged my tail so furiously that clumped-up mud flew everywhere. Carl didn’t mind. He laughed, "wow, you really need a bath!" I'm no fan of baths, but this time, I agreed with him. "Come on, let's go." He opened the door and I eagerly hopped in, knowing right where we were going: home.
I couldn't believe how just yesterday I was even thinking about the possibility of giving Bailey away. Work schedules can be changed, but I wouldn't dream of changing Bailey. She was special. She made my life complete, and that was what I needed most. "Glad to be home, Bailey?" At the sound of my voice, she stopped chewing her toy and jumped up on the couch to rest her head on my lap. I knew what she meant--far more than any words could express.