In October, I wrote here about the lost dog, Betsy:
It was in the height of election tensions. We didn't know what would happen to our nation but I was not focused on that. I was camping out by a live trap in my car, hoping to recover a skittish border collie that jumped a fence.
It was a very tough time, but I felt the warmth and charity — no, not charity; sincere caring — from everyone we encountered. It felt like I was looking behind the scrim of social media, news, and my own imagination to what people are; social creatures evolved to help each other.
Betsy jumped the fence September 24. We spent the next month putting up signs, responding to calls about sightings, camping out by traps, and tromping around handing out flyers. Every few days she would show up on a doorbell camera in the middle of the night, breaking our hearts with her scared body language.
One morning at 4:11 am, exactly 30 days after she escaped, I got a text from the inestimable Katie Albright, a local woman who tracks and traps lost pets.
"I got her!" and a black and white night-vision photo of Betsy's slight black and white body in the wire cage of the live trap.
I was up and dressed and out the door in 15 minutes to meet Katie and Betsy at my sweetheart Sara's house.
Betsy was on the couch with Sara when I got there 45 minutes later. The dog pushed her neck and head hard against me, a habit she has retained. It was just after 5am. We all went to bed and snoozed together for a while. She had terrible farts.
For several nights she would scramble through fervent nightmares. I would stir her by saying her name: "Betsy. Your name is Betsy."
This slight, shy animal had been thirty days out on her own. An incredible amount of miles and roads crossed. She dodged coyotes, bobcats, cars, hunger, thirst, and who knows what. Her legs and stomach had some bare skin, knicks that had healed over. Other than that (and the farts) she was in great shape. She had not lost weight. Her haunches we cut muscle.
She was the sweet treasure that Sara and I — and a whole collection of helpers — worked and sweated and worried for.
The whole month, I was badgered by the thought that no matter how much time we spent putting up signs and following up on leads, no matter how smart we were, she could have been lost forever anyway. We could find her body by the side of the road, struck by a car. Or more terribly, never know what befell her and simply have to give up the search.
The world is risky, but a lot of the time amazing beautiful things happen. The dog comes back safe.
The election was eleven days later. That was, in my mind, quite the opposite. Sometimes, terrible outcomes befall us. Outside our influence, the world disappoints and threatens and harms us.
I want to note that if you voted for Trump, I hope you keep reading. I have deeply held beliefs about this election. Among them are that we all benefit from being less divided, from having better interchanges. If I say something that bothers you, that does not mean that you are not welcome here. I believe that you are needed here. This article is really mostly about dogs, anyway.
That next afternoon, we were all sleep addled and exchanging messages. Katie reached out to see how the stinker was doing. I sent her a picture of Betsy doing her "dolphin" imitation next to me.
Her response:
"You're keeping her, right? That is what she is trying to tell you."
I had no intention of keeping her. I have one dog, a handful of a willful McNabb who is my familiar. How can there be space in my heart for another? And keeping two dogs, managing two leashes, Finding dog sitting when I travel. I just couldn't imagine it.
No. She is a foster dog and we will find her a home.
A perfect home. It better be a home with experienced dog people, caring people. Who will keep an eye on her, show her love and reassurance so she can grow out of her fear. They better have good fences and good habits. They better protect her, and then build her up so she can go on adventures, where she can bound through the landscape in her hoppy, freewheeling way then return home for a good meal in a climate-controlled environment.
And they better keep in touch with me, too. They need to send me pictures and updates and keep me in the loop. If they ever need a dog sitter, they should call me first.
They better not live more then 100 miles from me. Fifty miles. Maybe my neighbor needs a dog. Betsy could be right there, where I could see her every day...
It was less than 30 more days of having her back that Sara and I tore away all illusion that we were not going to keep her.
After over a dozen foster dogs, my foster fail was the one that gave me the most grief.
We have some things that will be figured out about the details of how our lives are going to work with Betsy in it. We need her to get to growing in the right direction, away from fear.
I will have to manage two leashes sometimes. I will have to budget for more dog expenses. Sara and I will add communicating-about-the-dog to our relationship.
And I will find myself worrying about her, of course. I am wired for worry and a skittish fence-jumping dog is going to be an easy thing to settle that worry upon.
But here we go.
I have pictures from the little party we threw for all the friends who helped find her. Betsy is nuzzling and cuddling with the folks who helped get her back. They had never met her, but spent time and money hanging signs, passing out flyers, and offering me the care I needed to keep going.
At the time we were still planning to find her a new home. But these people knew better.
"She's your dog, Joel." They said.
Sara has never owned a dog. She is uncertain about how it will go. Even as she is learning that sometimes an anxious dog chews her bed up and strews bits of foam around, Sara is embracing the experience.
Now, we are all facing uncertainty and stress. I don't know what folks who voted for Trump are feeling, but there is a universal dread among my friends who voted against this outcome.
But from that dread comes something interesting. Decisive action. Inquiry. Curiosity. In gatherings, in text threads, in unexpectedly productive social media posts, people are looking to solutions and actions they can take.
The solutions are varied, but I pick out the threads that are about caring.
Analysis, both professional-class and among the people, is that this nation is divided. If you ask the right way, that is true. And when you ask that perfectly incisive question, you expand that divide. I would rather not.
I don't know what is going to happen. I feel fear and uncertainty when I think forward to the future. I know that I am going to care for this stinker of a dog, care for Sara, care for those who are caring for others. The future will happen and I will be the best possible version of myself.
Postscript
It is worth it to know a little in advance what to do when a dog or cat is lost. From my experience:
Get signs up in the area as soon as possible. Make it simple: a clear picture of the pet and your phone number. Probably "DO NOT CHASE." Sightings will always be the most important thing for getting the animal home.
Immediately get notices to good locations on local Facebook, Reddit, NextDoor, and Ring apps. Include your phone number, a good picture, the location last seen, and physical description.
Most lost animals get into a fear state. They may not come to their name or to people familiar with them. It might not help to walk around calling their name. With Betsy, that certainly made her bolt farther and be missing longer.
If you do see the animal, get low, avoid eye contact, and see if they will approach you. If you have food, toss it their way. Don't move towards it. Don't make sudden moves even if it gets close.
Find your Katie Albright! There are often folks in your neighborhood who are experienced in recovering lost animals. Particularly if you need to trap a skittish animal, their experience is a huge help.
I love this news! You found her AND you’re keeping her! 🩵
Thanks all! Feels good to care. If you like what we are doing with OTGC, subscribe! Facebook is an unreliable way to stay connected.