Kelsy Finds Charlie
One of the best days of my life.
On March 16th, 2010, I was lying on my back on the asphalt next to 1st Avenue in Burien. I was about 8 feet from the traffic whipping by at 45 miles an hour, and Kelsy was lying against my side, on the side away from traffic. I looked up at the gray sky through the branches of an alder tree as a light rain fell down on my face. I was thinking how happy I was to be lying there with my Kelsy. I also thought about how different this moment of success was from any I had imagined during my life. When I was in high school and college, contemplating various careers, I never imagined I would be happiest working alongside a dog, finding other dogs. We had some time to kill, so I just stayed there, with the gentle rain falling on my face and Kelsy by my side. I wanted to remember that moment, and I just took some time to be aware of everything, the intermittent roar of the cars, the deep silence of the woods, Kelsy resting beside me. She had a look on her face of radiant happiness. Although she was always a happy dog, she seemed even happier at her accomplishment and my satisfaction. I thought, whatever else happens in our lives, I will always remember this moment.
A mail truck came along, and she had to drive around us a little bit. She stopped and asked if everything was okay. For a moment, I thought about explaining to her why I was lying on the asphalt with a stupid grin, with my dog, wearing her orange search vest, lying beside me, also with a stupid grin. I didn’t think she had the time for the whole story, so I just told her everything was fine.
The craigslist ad said:
LOST BLACK LAB MALE-LARGE
Date: 2010-03-15, 4:38PM
REWARD !!! My dog was at a groomer in Burien today (158th and 1st S) March 15th and he got away from them a little before noon. They had already taken off his collar and ID tags. He is a very large male black lab/husky (looks all lab except for his tail and his fur is a little longer than a labs) and has some gray around his mouth. His name is Charlie. He will be really scared because he has never been lost before.
Please call: 206-555-5555 or 425-555-5555. He is getting older and we are worried about him.
Every day, I would see ads on craigslist for missing dogs, and I would think, Kelsy and I could really help this dog if only they would call us right away. I used to try calling people from these ads to offer assistance, but they were always confused about who I was and what I was trying to do. Most people had never heard of someone who follows the scent trails of missing dogs, and they were skeptical of my claims and my motives. Before long, I stopped calling people who posted about a lost pet, even though I knew I could help them. I would wait for people to contact me, even if it was a day or two later and made the search harder. When people seek out assistance with their lost pets, most people in the Seattle area would eventually find their way to me, via Facebook or my web site or through referral from previous people I’ve helped. While a handful of people have training and experience to offer help with missing dogs, I was (and still am) the only person in the Seattle area who does it full-time, as a career (as far as I know).
On that particular Monday, I didn’t have any cases, so I called Rene and tried to explain who I was and what I did, without sounding crazy. Rene had never heard of this type of service, but she was desperate for help, so she gave me the details and said I could search. On Tuesday morning, before dawn, I drove to Rene and David’s home to get Charlie’s collar to use for a scent article. Usually, I like to have the owner of the dog come with me on the search, but Rene had to work and David had to stay home with their disabled son. I arrived at the groomer, and she explained how Charlie had gotten out a gate at the back of the business. I didn’t really see how Charlie, a seven year old dog not known to try to escape, could have gotten out, but I didn’t challenge her account. I started Kelsy at that point. I kept Charlie’s collar in a plastic bag in my pocket as I brought Kelsy out of the car. I put her orange search vest on, and switched the leash from her collar to the D ring on her vest. This was my signal to Kelsy that she should start working, when I attached the leash to her vest. I placed the open bag with the collar on the ground before Kesly, and instructed her, “Take the scent.”
She took about ten seconds to sniff all around the collar, building a scent profile of this dog. Then she started on the trail, looping around the parking lot and through the lanes of the bank’s drive-through windows. Kelsy took me around behind the bowling alley, around the trash bins. Then she headed north. The path Kelsy led me on toured the forgotten spaces of my home town, where garbage collected, where a homeless person or a wandering dog could avoid potential conflicts. Through parking lots and along roads, Kelsy worked with her head level, pulling on the leash moderately, her ear tips wiggling with each step in a signature pattern I called The Groove. When she hit some grass or landscaping, her nose would lower to the ground or shrubs to read the details of what transpired recently in the invisible world of animal smells. If Kelsy spent too much time investigating distractions that obviously had nothing to do with the case at hand, I would move her along with a “Leave it” and a tug on the leash. When we came to 160th, a busier street where the morning rush hour thickened, Kelsy would have wandered right in front of the cars to follow the scent if I hadn’t stopped her. I gave her the “Wait” command and held tight to her collar until I saw a gap in the traffic flow where we could dash across. She led me down a residential road to a bridge over a creek, and then down to the creek where Charlie probably got a drink. I let Kelsy have a drink there, too, and she waded in the water to cool off a bit.
The scent trail led to a nursing home, then around through the landscaping. Normally, I stop when we hit private property and have the dog’s owner ask for permission for us to proceed. Since no owner was with me, since I couldn’t tell exactly where I should be asking, and since no one would have an expectation of privacy in these communal spaces, I let Kelsy continue on the scent trail. A woman from a second floor balcony asked what I was doing. She looked stern, as if demanding a pretty good reason why I trespassed through her garden. When I told her that Kelsy was searching for a missing dog, her face relaxed, and she told us to go right ahead, to search anywhere we like. As we wove through the shrubs on Charlie’s trail, a man came out of the building, telling us we could not be there. I told him that a resident had given us permission to search for the lost dog, and his attitude quickly changed. He asked how he could help. I gave him a flier from my pocket, and he offered to spread the word. He would tell everyone at his church about Charlie and get them to look out for this lost black Lab. The scent trail led us out of the nursing home grounds, further south. We followed the scent for about three miles over two and a half hours until we hit a private residential property. This was definitely someone’s yard, but I couldn’t tell which house it belonged to. I switched Kelsy’s leash from her vest to her collar, to signal we should stop working for a bit. I knocked on a couple of doors to try to get permission, but no one answered. I told Kelsy she was a good girl, but we had to go home. I imagine she looked disappointed when we had to stop a search without finding our quarry. She definitely grumbled as we started walking back to the truck. Our search had taken us in a loop. If we had been able to continue, it seemed that Charlie was circling back to the point where he escaped, a common pattern with lost dogs. A light rain fell, and cars on 1st Avenue whipped by us at forty-five miles an hour. I kept Kelsy as far from the traffic as I could.
After a couple of blocks, Kelsy’s nose went up in the air, and she veered to the left, toward a thicket of blackberry vines. From the street, you couldn’t see anything but brambles. When I looked down in to the tangled vines, there was Charlie, taking a nap. I said his name softly, but stopped myself from saying it any more. I praised Kelsy for finding her dog. I got Kelsy’s cheese out of my pocket and unwrapped it for her. I gave her plenty of cheese, but I saved some to toss into the brambles for Charlie. He ignored it, and he wouldn’t follow the trail of cheese nibbles I created out of the thicket.
I called Rene at work and told her that Kelsy found Charlie. She got permission to leave work for a short time, and she said she would be there in twenty minutes. As a calming gesture for Charlie, I lay down on the asphalt on the shoulder of the road, about eight feet from the busy traffic. Kelsy rested against my side. Charlie wouldn’t come out to us, but that was okay. He could just stay put until his person arrived, and Kelsy and I would just enjoy the moment, savor the victory, the rescue of a lost dog.
When Rene arrived at a non-descript patch of weeds beside the road, she asked where Charlie was. I pointed to the brambles, and she couldn’t see him. I led her closer. Charlie heard her voice, and he started crying. He came out and leaned against her legs, whining and crying, telling his mother of his ordeal. After Rene had a few minutes to listen to Charlie’s epic story, I lifted Charlie into the back of her car, and she took him home. Kelsy and I walked the last few blocks back to the truck, and headed home.
This was the second “walk up find” for Kelsy and me, one of dozens in her eight year career. Today is Kelsy’s birthday, or at least the date I chose as probably being her birthday, more or less. I think of Kelsy every day, even though she has been gone for almost 6 years now. I remember everything about her, and I look at pictures of her probably every day. This search, 12 years ago, seems like it just happened yesterday. These many years later, I can just close my eyes and I am back there, lying on the asphalt with my Kelsy, the rain falling on my face, happy as can be.
We never forget those whose love and devotion have helped to shape our lives.
Awwww...made me cry...happy..sad..great memories ❤️🐾