Lost and Found

Last Sunday night, I thought that this might be the last picture I would ever take of Nala. A picture originally part of a series of pics for a yet-unwritten post about my now-failed attempt at a garden; more to come on that later. Maybe.

Inspecting the depth of the hole for my zucchini plants  

We came home from a bar-b-que with some friends around 7:30 and saw that the large gate (our "garage door") was ajar.  It wasn't swung all the way open, just a foot and a half or so gap.  We left the girls in the car to check on the house (no signs of an intruder, phew!) and I cried out "Nala! Nala girl!"

"She's not here, Stacy," Brandon replied (without even looking, I might add).

He was right.

She was gone.

Caring for our girls trumped the Nala search (sorry pet lovers, but baby beats dog every time) and I choked back tears as I got Boston and Bailey to bed.  It had been an especially long weekend for Bailey: 10 P.M. bedtime Friday night (yikes!) and 9 P.M. on Saturday (plus the loss of an hour, so it might as well have been 10 P.M. again).  Understandably, she was out of sorts and needed some extra love at bedtime.  I laid in bed with her for a while, praying safety for our precious dog.

Unbeknownst to me at the time, Brandon took off in the car, searching the neighborhood for our pet.  He asked the guards along our street and our restaurant owner neighbors . . . no one had seen her.

Bailey drying the rain off of Nala

Once the girls were settled and Brandon done with his search, we talked about what we were going to do.  For safety reasons, we didn't feel comfortable leaving the gate open overnight in hopes that Nala would return on her own. Dogs do that, right? Remember where they live. Go back home when they're done with their galavanting.  All we could do was listen for the neighbor dogs to bark and check if it meant that Nala was back in the area.

It didn't seem like enough.

I had to go out myself and look.

It had nothing to do with me not trusting Brandon's search, I just know myself and know that I wouldn't ever forgive myself if I just sat around the house and did "nothing".  So I backed the car out of the driveway and took off, windows down, crying "Nala! Here, Nala-girl!" all the while.

One of our FIRST pictures of Nala

I drove down our street for a while- tracing the path that I used to run along with Nala - then went a few blocks off of our familiar trail to talk to different guards. "Te viste un perro negro?"  Nothing. No one had seen anything.

I crossed a fairly busy street (think Hermosa if it were only two lanes wide with store fronts and parking spaces lining the curbs), praying that I didn't see her sprawled out in the street. Praying that I wouldn't be the one to hit her as I searched.  THAT would have put me over the edge, for sure.

Near the mall, I came across a guard who said that he saw her about an hour earlier, and he pointed toward another main street (this time, think Foothill, by Victoria Gardens, but only two lanes each way with busses weaving and out of traffic).

Bailey has grown up SO MUCH since then!

If the guard was right about Nala, she was headed in a straight line.  After a detour at a park cady-corner to the guard (what dog doesn't like a good romp at the park?) and a few more "te viste un perro negro" 's with the street kids (mad that I didn't have any change for them), I made my way across the busy street and resumed asking neighborhood guards and families enjoying the cool night air if they'd seen our dog.

No, lo siento senora.

Maybe she didn't come this far.

Back across the street and headed home. Slowly. Not wanting to admit defeat.

Oh, and I just remembered that tomorrow kicks off "dog week" during learning time with Bailey. Figures.

I wove up and down countless side streets, asking families walking home from the grocery store and parking attendants alike if they'd happened upon a black dog. "Un perro alto y un poquito flaco?" (Yes, Nala's a girl, and I know I should end everything with an "a" . . . I just have a hard time calling her "perra"; it just doesn't seem right).

What would Bailey do without her friend? 

Back home.

Search "complete," but not complete.  She was still out there.

Ten o'clock rolled around and so I snuck into Boston's room for her last feeding of the night.  As I held her, I again prayed for Nala.  I prayed for her safety. I prayed that she wasn't hurt. That she wasn't pregnant. I prayed for forgiveness when the thought "I won't have to pick up poop anymore" snuck into my head.  I prayed for her return.

Just as I was about to lay Boston back in her crib, Brandon pushed the door open and mouthed the words: "She's back!"

Our Nala-girl, safe and sound

Turns out, the neighborhood dogs were happy to announce Nala's reappearance in the neighborhood. Trouble was, when Brandon went to the door and he saw Nala at the gate, Nala bolted!  Brandon was shirtless and shoeless and locked in the patio.  As Nala sprinted away from the house, he scrambled for his keys, unlocked the front gate and took off after her.  She made it (safely) five blocks away from our house before Brandon finally caught up to her.  

We gave her a preliminary check-up and there wasn't a single mark on her. No bite marks, scratches, nothing.  God heard our prayers.  

And the vet says that as long as she wasn't in heat (we're 99% sure she wasn't/isn't) that puppies are out of the question.  We take her mid-November to check for pregnancy and - if she's not - take care of "things" for good.  

We still don't know how she got out; the gate's been secured in the same manner for the past sixteen months and this is her first escape.  But the gate swings IN, towards the yard, so there's no way she opened it herself.  Our theory is that there was someone walking by, Nala barked, and they kicked at the gate to scare her.  And at that point, I think it's safe to say that they BOTH took off running.  Go get 'em, Nala! :)