Me Julie

The Cage Was Gone

Now sitting downstairs as I knew that my dogs needed time with me, not playing, just being in the same room as them. I don’t think that they actually sleep when I am not home; I think they stay awake and simply wait for me to return. I think this is why they are so tired, and yes, there was no room for me on the sofa, so, me being me, plus my phone needed to be on charge again, I was sitting on the cold tiled floor alone and again doing my usual trick of staring into space.

My phone began bleeping, bleep after bleep, so I looked, and it was continuous messages from the same girl. Her profile picture was so sweet, yet the messages were very direct. Not rude in any way yet direct, and for the first time, I thought yippee real questions. This pretty girl seemed passionate to help me, and instead of asking if I had found George yet, she was asking times and dates.

Then the best message ever came: “Hi, could you send your location and can I come and pick you up, and you show me the exact spot that the photo was taken of George.”

I then typed: “No, as I have no clue how to do that, but if you take the first roundabout, I will walk down to the road and stand there.”

I was standing in the road looking like a trollop and still wearing my tired rubber shoes, yes, with socks. I was there with not a care in the world of my appearance. This message had come from a super girl that had actually studied missing dogs.

After I am sure only 9 more calls Julie found me, I jumped in her very small old car, it reminded me of my very first fiesta back in the day. It was now dark, and ufff the way I needed to take Julie was via track and sitting in this old (no clue what model of car), I worried that we would actually make the track journey.

On route, Julie was asking about the NCBH, yet she wanted to go to the actual place where the photo of George was taken.

As I said, “Stop, this is the top of the track and where the photo was taken,” Julie pulled over; I then asked, “Would you mind if I went to the bottom of the track and just looked into the cage that I have left outside the ladies house who had taken the photo of George?”

“I need to turn the car around, so yes, you go look,” said Julie.

I was so concerned for this lovely girl that I knew I was taking up yet another person’s time, so I ran down the track; yes, I could actually run now, no joke, wow, I could actually run.

As I turned the corner, I looked, and I looked, and I looked the cage was gone, no cage, no blanket, no pajama bottoms, and no water bowl, everything was gone. I started pacing up and down the confusion as to why the cage was gone, was actually causing physical pain inside my stomach. I then ran back up to the car, and I jumped straight in and immediately started blabbing to Julie, “It’s gone, it’s all gone.”

“What’s all gone?” asked Julie. “The cage, everything, it’s all gone, his blanket has gone, everything has gone,” I said.

Gone. All of It.

Julie then took me home, and said how I must go back tomorrow to ask the lady where are the cage and George’s blanket. As Julie drove off, I sauntered into the house in a complete daze. There was only one logical thing to do, and that was to pour myself a very large glass of wine and get back on the computer and start looking into any information that I could find out about the lady that had taken the photo of George and the NCBH.

The lady that had taken the photo of George still hadn’t accepted my friend request on Facebook, so as for trying to find anything out about her was proving rather difficult. I did, however, discover that the NCBH had a fan page on Facebook, and they had shared my Facebook post, the Facebook post of me asking for help on our first search. Then I noticed the time that they shared my post. They shared my post 3 hours after the meeting time of the search.

I then saw a link to a website on their Facebook page. The website being a chihuahua breeding page. Yes, there it was with all their information. I then went downstairs and continued drinking wine while pacing up and down.

Oh dear, then after 2 bottles of white wine, the typing began, oh it did flow, my god did it flow: You sick people, if I find out that you took my George …………………………… I am sure that you can imagine what I typed. Gulp, then I hit that word; yes, I clicked send. So now the NCBH, I doubt, would ever let me into their property ever again.

Next came the sobbing, and basically, I cried myself to sleep on the sofa.

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