Last night, we lost our dog. It was almost dark when Tetley slipped out the door past me as we returned from a sunset-kayak. I imagined him running out to greet Rob who was in the driveway pulling the boat off the car. A few minutes later, I was in the kitchen making dinner and hearing Rob come in the front door, called to him to please get Tetley back inside. Usually, it only takes the sound of cutlery to bring Tetley dashing into the kitchen eager for a handout, so I was surprised he had yet to make an appearance.
Rob whistled and called into the shadowy yard and across to the neighbors’ house. His Maltese girlfriend lives there and her owners often grill dinner outside, the smokey meat smells irresistible to him. No neighbors and no Tetley. Wild animals venture out at this hour – particularly skunks. It’s been awhile since he’s tangled with one but I wanted it to be longer still. I abandoned our dinner of tomatoes and arugala and joined Rob outside in calling and whistling, walking along the densely wooded section. Earlier in the afternoon, Tetley dashed over through the neighbor’s yard towards those woods before I halted him with a stern command to come back. He’s a good dog and he did – but perhaps, he’d remembered his earlier aborted adventure and snuck away to continue it.
I walked slowly along the overgrown stretch, calling and whistling, aiming my flashlight into the leaves. Another neighbor, out on his porch for a smoke, warned me about the family of raccoons that venture out from the wood every night. He joined me in calling “Tetley!” at the top of our lungs. I heard his bark, just twice – it sounded like it was coming from somewhere in there. At least he was alive.
In over a decade of living here, I never ventured into this stretch of overgrown wood backing onto about 6 houses on the neighboring street but I was going in tonight. I hurried home and changed into jeans, sweatshirt, rubber boots and garden gloves (poison ivy) and climbed up over the rocks into those woods I have peered into or ignored so many thousands of times over the years. Rob lit the way for me as I ducked under branches, shuffled through the crackling leaves and branches, all the while, calling to Tetley and begging him to bark again. We imagined him stuck in a hole. ‘Ratter’ that he is, he often pursues creatures between rocks and into their dens. Was he stuck? I heard a bark again. Strong at least but I couldn’t figure out from where. Why wasn’t he coming to us?
Rob drove around the block, whistling and calling. I returned home and stood by the end of our property staring into the dark, willing him to bark again, staring hard into the shadows as if he might appear, tail wagging, ears alert. How we love this dog! And to make matters worse, M’s away in England until Tuesday. What if we never find him? Enough with dear ones disappearing out of her life. I cannot imagine having to deliver such news to her again.
I was angry when my late husband came home with this tiny Cairn Terrier hidden in his big coat. It was an evening close to Christmas and I sat reading in bed and my daughter lay sprawled at the foot of it, watching television. He came into the room grinning as he flashed open his big woolen coat to reveal to me, a scruffy puppy. Furious, I motioned to him to follow me downstairs, whispering to him as we left the room, “I said I didn’t want a dog!” We had fostered a huge Golden Lab who terrorized our cat and although love-able, at one point, dragged M across the yard as she held onto the leash. We’d also attempted to adopt a Golden Retriever who had too many health problems for my patience or pocket book. We were already struggling financially and emotionally with N’s addiction and I knew that a dog would just be one more thing for me to care of.
“All right. I’ll take him back,” he said, pressing the little guy to his chest. I thought: M will find out how I rejected the puppy and I’ll forever be the witch. He was cute. And at least he was small. In spite of myself, I touched him and that was it – I knew he was ours. I followed N back upstairs as he announced to M he had a surprise for her and delivered little Tetley into her arms and she burst into tears of happiness.
Tetley is almost eight years old now and I cannot imagine my life with out him. None of us can. He is Rob’s mascot, taking him with him whenever he can, even to work, tucked under his arm and ready to greet everyone with a lick and a wag.
Almost ten o’clock and my stomach in knots. Rob made a run to the store to buy bacon, sure the smell would entice Tetley to give up his pursuit of rodents or climb out of any hole, no matter how deep. Out on our back deck, I wept, calling, whistling, straining to hear through the cacophony of insects for another bark. Rob opened the windows and turned on the fan in hopes of driving the smell of cooking meat outside. I took his leash – another thing that inspires joy in him – and decided to walk around the block clicking it and calling. He’d been gone for hours.
Tetley is not a wanderer, never venturing much beyond the border of the hedge that surrounds the yard. I peered into the darkness of the woody yard of every house. Could he have gotten into and trapped in someone’s house or shed? Why wouldn’t he bark? Rounding the corner onto the busy street, my heart in my throat, I searched the road. Another neighbor walking his black mutt came towards me and when I asked him if he’d seen Tetley he said, “Dante will find him.” and he turned to walk with me in the direction that I’d heard Tetley’s barks, now, too many hours ago.
We walked past our hedge and our neighbor’s manicured lawn towards the woods and heard Tetley’s bark strong and constant now. Ecstatic, I ran up the steps into my neighbors’ yard towards the corner bordering the woods where their compost bin sits, I peered in and on top of a bed of corn husks, was Tetley!
This morning, our life feels sweet, the already beautiful day, even more so. Last night’s reminder of how quickly and completely our lives can change when love gets lost, makes us grateful for our perfect present.