Case of the "dognapped" Yorkie
Posted 01-25-2011 at 01:00 AM by alaskayorkie
Now, I can laugh. Eddie is safe, and the only harm is to my pride.
But for 2 1/2 hours this afternoon, my wife and I and 100 or so of friends on Facebook and more here on YT without my knowledge -- not to mention the Anchorage Police and animal control -- were on red alert for the case of the stolen Alaska Yorkie.
First, thanks to everyone who weighed in with condolences and offered their support. It wasn't until the dust had settled that I realized what a fuss I'd caused.
But let me recap: I drove Kelly to a doctor's appointment at noon today. I wanted to bring Eddie with us because I was just going to be waiting in the car, and he's always good company. But he thought I was gonna put his booties and coat on and take him for a walk in the cold, so he did what he often does in winter -- he raced into the bedroom and hid under the bed. He likes walks, but he hates wearing booties and a coat. And he gets cold without them.
We ran an errand afterward and returned home around 1:30 and were greeted by two excited dogs -- Jillie and Rusty. Eddie was nowhere to be found, which is rare because he always greets us after we've been away, unless he got locked in a room.
I immediately walked back to the bedroom expecting to find him hiding under the bed, perhaps scared by fireworks or a loud noise. In the 6 years we've owned him, that's the only thing that sends him into hiding and silence.
I looked under the bed to blackness and saw no suspicious shadows. I started to panic. This was the only hiding place in the entire house, as all the doors to the other rooms were closed. I scrambled to find a flashlight. Surely, I just couldn't see him. But the flashlight turned up only dust -- and a couple toys he'd been hoarding under there.
That's when I snapped. I raced around the entire house, looking in rooms even with shut doors. Kelly looked under the bed and every corner of the house as well. We called his name in every room and listened for a bark or a whimper. Nothing. I knocked on the doors of three neighbors and asked if they'd seen anybody suspicious at our house. Nothing.
I raced out back -- why, I don't know because the door was closed and we were pretty sure locked. Nothing. I raced down to the park, a likely escape if he'd been somehow locked out of the house or let out. Nothing.
He was gone.
That's when the faulty logic started playing out in my head. None of our friends or family members would stop by and remove him from the house. He couldn't escape on his own. He had to have been stolen. I ran around the outside of the house looking for points of entry, and there were none. A quick look showed nothing missing, not even my expensive camera that was on the dining room table in clear view.
Jillie was still there, and she's half Eddie's size, a much more coveted target for would-be dognappers. He had to have been targeted by someone who knew him.
It seemed inconceivable, but it was possible. Eddie's pretty well known around town. He's taken dozens of obedience classes from the two main obedience schools. He's won trick contests at several public events. He's a therapy dog and has been visiting strangers twice a month for three years, including recently in the adolescent mental health unit at the hospital. The kids all love him and tell me every week how much they'd love a dog just like him. I also post a lot of pictures on a dog blog I host for the newspaper.
Someone wanted him so bad, they stole him. There were no other alternatives.
The next half hour was sort of a blur. Kelly, in tears, was calling her friends, checking everyone with access to our home just in case. We both posted pictures on our Facebook pages, and I was preparing to post something on Craigslist and start printing up some posters. I called in to work and arranged a replacement. I called animal control and the police.
I was impressed with the police. Since this was not just a missing dog, but a burglary call, they sent two officers over within 30 minutes. The first officer introduced himself as a dog lover and showed no hint of doubting my story, however unbelievable it sounded even to me: No forced entry. Nothing else stolen. We walked along side the house and found some small footprints that I couldn't explain, but the officer discovered they stopped before reaching the back door -- the likely place a thief would have entered. We occasionally forget to lock that back door, and I was in such a panic when I got home that I didn't notice if it was locked or not.
The officer again asked if we'd searched every corner of the house, and I said yes. I think he started buying into the possibility of a dog napping when he asked how much Eddie was worth. I told him we'd paid $800 for him 6 years ago. He asked if he was trained. I said he's been through no fewer than 20 obedience and miscellaneous classes. I told him about his therapy certification and work. He asked how many hours I'd put into his training, and I guessed at 1,000. His eyes perked up and he said, "That dog is worth $50,000 with all that training." I didn't argue. He is worth much more than that to me.
Through all of this, something was eating at me. In a way, I'd just said goodbye to Eddie two nights earlier. We'd come home from his therapy visit at the hospital, and he was groomed to perfection and looking absolutely perfect. He'd just brought smiles to 20 troubled kids with two flawless 30-minute trick performances to two different groups. I looked at him and knew just how special he is. I walked over and hugged him and told him exactly that. I've lost dogs before, and I know that once they're gone, it's too late to change the way you treated them.
I've heard enough tragic stories about dogs to know that they could be gone at any moment. I don't ever want to have any regrets about the way I treat them. When they go, I want to be able to appreciate every second I've spent with them. In hugging him right then, I was consciously thinking about that. I was telling him what he meant to me, just in case it happened to be goodbye.
The officers had been there for about 30 minutes. It was still confusing. Kelly was in tears. Rusty was barking. Even Jillie was yapping from time to time at all the confusion. I walked back to the back room for a second and thought I'd heard Eddie's bark in the back of my mind. It had to be Jillie, I told myself subconsciously. Eddie was gone. We'd searched everywhere. I didn't say anything about it.
A few minutes later, the officers were talking to us in the living room and I heard that familiar bark again. It was deeper than Jillie's. Nobody else seemed to notice. I looked over toward Jillie, who was being petted by one of the officers, and I asked him: "Did that dog just bark?" He said, "Nope, but something sure as hell did."
It was coming from the wall, behind the TV. I peeked around the entertainment center, and there he was in a 6-inch gap. He was unable to move forward because the exit was blocked by a stack of magazines. He was unable or afraid to move back it was so narrow and his path was blocked by a bunch of cords, a birdcage and a big box of his toys.
But he was awfully happy to see me. I scooped him up and turned around to see three beaming faces. Kelly wanted him in her arms, so I brought him to her. The officers, who I was afraid would be perturbed at the wild-Yorkie chase I'd led them on, were delighted. "I wish all our calls ended like this," one said. I apologized profusely and thanked them again and again. "Hey," one said. "It was worth it to get to meet the famous Eddie."
I didn't even try to take him from Kelly's arms. I just raced back to the computer and posted a quick "FOUND" post on Facebook. The universal tears that were being shed around the country instantly turned to cheers -- and some great jokes. For the first time in my life, I welcomed every one of them.
That's what I love about dog lovers. As foolish as I was, each and every one of you gets it.
Again, thanks.
But for 2 1/2 hours this afternoon, my wife and I and 100 or so of friends on Facebook and more here on YT without my knowledge -- not to mention the Anchorage Police and animal control -- were on red alert for the case of the stolen Alaska Yorkie.
First, thanks to everyone who weighed in with condolences and offered their support. It wasn't until the dust had settled that I realized what a fuss I'd caused.
But let me recap: I drove Kelly to a doctor's appointment at noon today. I wanted to bring Eddie with us because I was just going to be waiting in the car, and he's always good company. But he thought I was gonna put his booties and coat on and take him for a walk in the cold, so he did what he often does in winter -- he raced into the bedroom and hid under the bed. He likes walks, but he hates wearing booties and a coat. And he gets cold without them.
We ran an errand afterward and returned home around 1:30 and were greeted by two excited dogs -- Jillie and Rusty. Eddie was nowhere to be found, which is rare because he always greets us after we've been away, unless he got locked in a room.
I immediately walked back to the bedroom expecting to find him hiding under the bed, perhaps scared by fireworks or a loud noise. In the 6 years we've owned him, that's the only thing that sends him into hiding and silence.
I looked under the bed to blackness and saw no suspicious shadows. I started to panic. This was the only hiding place in the entire house, as all the doors to the other rooms were closed. I scrambled to find a flashlight. Surely, I just couldn't see him. But the flashlight turned up only dust -- and a couple toys he'd been hoarding under there.
That's when I snapped. I raced around the entire house, looking in rooms even with shut doors. Kelly looked under the bed and every corner of the house as well. We called his name in every room and listened for a bark or a whimper. Nothing. I knocked on the doors of three neighbors and asked if they'd seen anybody suspicious at our house. Nothing.
I raced out back -- why, I don't know because the door was closed and we were pretty sure locked. Nothing. I raced down to the park, a likely escape if he'd been somehow locked out of the house or let out. Nothing.
He was gone.
That's when the faulty logic started playing out in my head. None of our friends or family members would stop by and remove him from the house. He couldn't escape on his own. He had to have been stolen. I ran around the outside of the house looking for points of entry, and there were none. A quick look showed nothing missing, not even my expensive camera that was on the dining room table in clear view.
Jillie was still there, and she's half Eddie's size, a much more coveted target for would-be dognappers. He had to have been targeted by someone who knew him.
It seemed inconceivable, but it was possible. Eddie's pretty well known around town. He's taken dozens of obedience classes from the two main obedience schools. He's won trick contests at several public events. He's a therapy dog and has been visiting strangers twice a month for three years, including recently in the adolescent mental health unit at the hospital. The kids all love him and tell me every week how much they'd love a dog just like him. I also post a lot of pictures on a dog blog I host for the newspaper.
Someone wanted him so bad, they stole him. There were no other alternatives.
The next half hour was sort of a blur. Kelly, in tears, was calling her friends, checking everyone with access to our home just in case. We both posted pictures on our Facebook pages, and I was preparing to post something on Craigslist and start printing up some posters. I called in to work and arranged a replacement. I called animal control and the police.
I was impressed with the police. Since this was not just a missing dog, but a burglary call, they sent two officers over within 30 minutes. The first officer introduced himself as a dog lover and showed no hint of doubting my story, however unbelievable it sounded even to me: No forced entry. Nothing else stolen. We walked along side the house and found some small footprints that I couldn't explain, but the officer discovered they stopped before reaching the back door -- the likely place a thief would have entered. We occasionally forget to lock that back door, and I was in such a panic when I got home that I didn't notice if it was locked or not.
The officer again asked if we'd searched every corner of the house, and I said yes. I think he started buying into the possibility of a dog napping when he asked how much Eddie was worth. I told him we'd paid $800 for him 6 years ago. He asked if he was trained. I said he's been through no fewer than 20 obedience and miscellaneous classes. I told him about his therapy certification and work. He asked how many hours I'd put into his training, and I guessed at 1,000. His eyes perked up and he said, "That dog is worth $50,000 with all that training." I didn't argue. He is worth much more than that to me.
Through all of this, something was eating at me. In a way, I'd just said goodbye to Eddie two nights earlier. We'd come home from his therapy visit at the hospital, and he was groomed to perfection and looking absolutely perfect. He'd just brought smiles to 20 troubled kids with two flawless 30-minute trick performances to two different groups. I looked at him and knew just how special he is. I walked over and hugged him and told him exactly that. I've lost dogs before, and I know that once they're gone, it's too late to change the way you treated them.
I've heard enough tragic stories about dogs to know that they could be gone at any moment. I don't ever want to have any regrets about the way I treat them. When they go, I want to be able to appreciate every second I've spent with them. In hugging him right then, I was consciously thinking about that. I was telling him what he meant to me, just in case it happened to be goodbye.
The officers had been there for about 30 minutes. It was still confusing. Kelly was in tears. Rusty was barking. Even Jillie was yapping from time to time at all the confusion. I walked back to the back room for a second and thought I'd heard Eddie's bark in the back of my mind. It had to be Jillie, I told myself subconsciously. Eddie was gone. We'd searched everywhere. I didn't say anything about it.
A few minutes later, the officers were talking to us in the living room and I heard that familiar bark again. It was deeper than Jillie's. Nobody else seemed to notice. I looked over toward Jillie, who was being petted by one of the officers, and I asked him: "Did that dog just bark?" He said, "Nope, but something sure as hell did."
It was coming from the wall, behind the TV. I peeked around the entertainment center, and there he was in a 6-inch gap. He was unable to move forward because the exit was blocked by a stack of magazines. He was unable or afraid to move back it was so narrow and his path was blocked by a bunch of cords, a birdcage and a big box of his toys.
But he was awfully happy to see me. I scooped him up and turned around to see three beaming faces. Kelly wanted him in her arms, so I brought him to her. The officers, who I was afraid would be perturbed at the wild-Yorkie chase I'd led them on, were delighted. "I wish all our calls ended like this," one said. I apologized profusely and thanked them again and again. "Hey," one said. "It was worth it to get to meet the famous Eddie."
I didn't even try to take him from Kelly's arms. I just raced back to the computer and posted a quick "FOUND" post on Facebook. The universal tears that were being shed around the country instantly turned to cheers -- and some great jokes. For the first time in my life, I welcomed every one of them.
That's what I love about dog lovers. As foolish as I was, each and every one of you gets it.
Again, thanks.
Comments 12
Total Comments 12
Comments
All I can say is wow, and so glad you found Eddie. We do get it and thanks for sharing your story. | |
Posted 01-25-2011 at 02:23 AM by Lisa and Pic |
I love a happy ending. Thanks for sharing your experience and we all can imagine the fear. Also, thanks for reminding us to never take them for granted. | |
Posted 01-25-2011 at 05:00 AM by BlueBelle |
Eddie is priceless and I am so happy that he is safe and sound. As Lisa wrote, we do get it and thank you for sharing your story. | |
Posted 01-25-2011 at 05:21 AM by Maximo |
I am in tears reading this. I am so happy that you found him! | |
Posted 01-25-2011 at 06:02 AM by lil louis |
Is Eddie in time out and not allowed to go to the V Day Ball? | |
Posted 01-25-2011 at 06:10 AM by margaritaville |
Aww Mike, I'm so sorry this happened to you - you must have been terrified! I am so glad Eddie is home safe. You'd think Jillie would have ratted him out for getting stuck back there, LOL ... I guess she was just enjoying all the chaos. Never a dull moment! I just love happy endings | |
Posted 01-25-2011 at 08:06 AM by xmasbaby75 |
Ha, you guys DO get it -- who else would read that novella about a nonlost dog?! Margaritaville, Eddie was the first to go out looking for a date and will be escorting jmuedog's Gwenni to the ball -- if he gets off restriction in time! | |
Posted 01-25-2011 at 09:50 AM by alaskayorkie |
lol, Gwenni was pacing along side me as I was debating the cost of a flight to Alaska yesterday.... granted I don't think she knew why, but I think she's very glad Eddie's still escorting her and secretly gave him a high paw for finding a way to make himself even more famous. | |
Posted 01-25-2011 at 08:07 PM by JMuedog |
Thanks for the understanding, everyone! And Jenni, can you imagine my embarrassment to get a call from you in Anchorage hours after he'd been found in my living room? I would have to put myself out of my misery before you got the chance! But thanks for the thought, you avatar thief! And Joan, I'm putting a GPS on Eddie for the VD Ball. | |
Posted 01-25-2011 at 08:24 PM by alaskayorkie Updated 01-25-2011 at 08:26 PM by alaskayorkie |
Oh my..... what a great story!!! ......... this one is worth publishing!!!! | |
Posted 01-26-2011 at 02:12 PM by Shelby&Seymour |
I love happy endings! Eddie is so special to so many people! | |
Posted 01-27-2011 at 08:16 AM by Patti |
Good grief, I've been MIA and just got to reading these last few entries in your blog. Holy cow! And I would've been having one too had I lost my Jenna, I can totally understand you going postal! >.< How nice that the troopers were so responsive! Where we live we'd be SOL. Nobody comes out here for anything, not even a DV call. So glad to hear that Eddie was just stuck. I can't tell you how many times either Jenna slips away from me in house and, although I KNOW there's no way out without me opening the door, I panic. I have a cat too, who should be named Houdini, that always disappears on me and of course won't come when called like a dog would...so it's absolute mayhem when he decides to take a private nap somewhere out of sight. Bless you! What an experience! Hope you never go through it again! I agree, though, excellently told! | |
Posted 03-23-2011 at 01:17 AM by Jenna AK |