Chapter 3 – Alone | A True Story

A desperate search through the darkness

My next thought was to go home and begin looking by car as it was clear that George by now could have covered a lot of ground. As I got closer to home, I spotted Gordon; he shouted, “Anything?” This was another lesson to learn: keep calm, accept stupidity when I am asked if I have found George — yet in my head, my words would pull the rudest of strings.

I drove up and down the tracks with my window open, and I was continuously whistling. I stopped, I got out of the car, and I continued to whistle. It was not a cool two fingers in your mouth whistle; it was more like a tongue-and-teeth whistle; it’s actually quite odd how I whistle. I put my tongue in position, and it just happens.

It’s also easier to whistle than to shout when you have 5 dogs. As soon as mummy whistles, George, Steve, Kev, Peter, and Jeremy will run, they run straight to me. So, whistle for George is what I did.

The sun was now setting, and it was starting to get dark, and I saw that Carol had just sent me a message to say that she was now heading home. I thanked her, and I totally understood.

I then messaged Gordon and Kermit to meet me back at mine, and I headed back home. I was starting to feel guilty knowing that my friends were here on holiday and yet they were spending their time looking for George, so I gave them a drink and asked them to go home, as there was nothing more they could do tonight.

As I watched them drive off, I walked across my track and to the other side of the field. The view was so vast, and as I turned a complete 360 degrees, my heart sank — George could be anywhere by now.

I then dropped to my knees, and I found myself screaming his name. I felt so weak and alone, and somehow, I knew that I would never see my baby again.

As the tears once again started flowing down my cheeks, I suddenly remembered that I had to feed the dogs, so I started to saunter back to my gate. As I walked into the kitchen and I saw George’s little red food bowl, I gasped, and then I sobbed so hard that I was struggling for breath.

My dogs are my babies, and it’s odd as I didn’t feel any resentment towards any of them as they all gulped down their dinner. All I could feel was guilt as to how I had neglected my babies all afternoon.

Then came the extra guilt as I glanced over and saw that their water bowl was totally empty. As I filled their bowl, my eyes then went to my cup of hot chocolate with a skin so thick that my stomach took a double turn.

My sobbing was now starting to ease, yet I felt so weak; I knew that I also needed food and water myself, yet just the thought of anything passing my lips made me feel green inside.

I was now sitting in my living room in the dark, and I could feel all of the dogs just staring at me. Then I noticed that I was just staring into the wall, basically staring into space, as one might say.

I am not actually sure how long I was staring into space, yet then came that switch again. The words were so loud in my head: “Do not give up; you must continue.”

I then remembered Kev’s smelling ability, and I went and got Kev’s little harness and the torch that on Gordon’s last visit he had given me — it was the size of a cigar, yet super bright.

I think the time at this point was 23:00. I locked up the house and decided to go on foot with Kev and just see where he took me. As we walked out of the gates, I just looked at Kev and said, “Find George, good boy Kev, find George.”

I can’t explain, yet it was like Kev knew what he had to do, and he immediately started to guide me. We went right, and then at the next turning, he sniffed and sniffed. He took his time, and then he pulled me right again.

We weaved in and out of so many tracks that I had no clue as to where we were. After what felt like hours, I could see we were in Villa Franco — a very small village about a 15-minute walk from my house (not the way Kev had taken me though).

All of a sudden, Kev just stopped. We had hit a dead-end, yet he didn’t turn around; he just sat there — he wouldn’t move. It was very dark, yet I could see some gates and inside the gates some dogs, and then a lady appeared in the distance.

I didn’t care how late it was; I didn’t even care if I unnerved her — without thinking, I just started to shout out, “I have lost my dog George and my dog Kev has led me to your house.”

The woman acknowledged me and simply replied that she hadn’t seen him.

So, here we were outside some random lady’s gate. All I could do was look down at Kev and say again, “Find George,” and off we went again.

It was so very dark, and it amazed me the way Kev was constantly sniffing — not sniffing to cock his leg but actually sniffing as if he knew what I expected of him. It was taking all my strength to carry on.

The desperation, the uncontrollable worry that George could be lost, he could be trapped — it was becoming unbearable. Yet I knew I could never give up. I would never give up. My complete focus had to be finding George.

I then began to panic — what if George had found his way home? What if he was panicking because the gates were all locked? So, I immediately said to Kev, “Take me home,” as I had absolutely no clue as to where we were.

All I could do was follow Kev. We went left, we went right. I could barely see. And then the worry hit: if the batteries go dead on this tiny torch, I’m stuffed — the track was so uneven, and I was still wearing my rubber shoes.

Kev did it. He got me home. It was now around 3am. There was no sign of George, yet I still began to whistle and shout his name.

After letting all the dogs out for a wee and then settling them all inside, I decided to leave the small side gate ajar in the hope that George would come wandering in.

It was at that moment that I suddenly remembered that I hadn’t needed a wee myself all afternoon — and basically now nearly all night. The sensible thing to do would be to put the kettle on, yet these weren’t sensible times.

So, I went to the fridge and poured myself the largest glass of wine, and as I sat there sipping (possibly gulping), I looked at all my beautiful dogs. Romeo and Steve were huddled in their normal spot on the sofa — Steve, obviously, under the blanket.

Romeo is a fluffy white Maltese. He is quite the baby, yet he knows how to get his own way. When Claudia drops him off at mine, he likes to make a screeching sound, and he jumps up and down, claps his two front paws together, and waits for me to join in with the screeching.

Basically, I am Romeo’s second mum, and wherever I go, Romeo goes.

I could sense that all the dogs knew that something was wrong, but they all were at last sleeping peacefully while I sat there staring into oblivion. As the clock ticked, I became more and more anxious. I knew that I needed a plan, and unfortunately, that plan had to include me going to work.

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