Many years ago I heard the late great Maurice ‘on the Mike’ Newman on Rock FM announce that a ‘small brown dog with one ear up and one ear down, answering to the name of Tequila’ was lost. It sounded like a song, so it stuck in my head. Later that day whilst I was walking a dog I was housesitting for, I came across a lone little tan-coloured dog with opposing facing ears. “Tequila!” I ventured, which really did sound like a song, and Tequila indeed came scurrying over. The dog I already had on a lead was not impressed with sharing his carer, so I ended up in a field with one struggling dog on a lead and one happily yapping on a makeshift handbag-strap-strung-through-collar-makeshift lead whilst I called Rock FM to alert Tequila’s owner.
Since then, I’ve reunited several lost pets with owners through Facebook, which is an absolute boon in these cases. Last month I needed to use the service myself.
Since a Christmas housesit stint in Latchi became extended due to travel restrictions, I’ve been spending the second lockdown alone with two huskies. Each requires two walks a day, individually, so I’ve got to know the Polis and Latchi scenery very well. One morning one husky was dawdling, slackening his loop lead. He stopped and gave himself a little shake, then pointed his head down, whereupon the lead loosened and slipped to the ground. I saw “I’m free!” flash in his eyes, and before my hand reached his collar, he took off.
Walking 12K a day had done wonders for my fitness but even so I couldn’t keep up with a husky on a mission. We both ran across field and dale until he disappeared into distant greenery. I called, searched and listened, but Mickey was gone.
Then I saw a flash of white fluffy tail bouncing above a hedge in the distance, and ran towards it. The hedge ended and indeed revealed a waggy tailed husky, and even better a woman walking him on a lead. Overwhelmed with relief and gratitude I rushed, with my empty lead, towards this angel.
But the woman was bemused by my approach, and the husky was not Mickey. I gave her my number and asked her to please call should she spot another dog like hers.
I called in friends and neighbours and we scattered, covering the local area, by car, by foot, following every bark. After a fruitless hour I contacted police, Rock FM, vets and animal shelters, and the next step was Facebook. But first, I had to contact Mickey’s owners on the other side of the world, 12 hours behind and mercifully asleep and unaware of the crisis, before they checked Facebook. I left messages for them to call me ASAP, then posted photos of the missing dog and my contact details on Lost & Found Pets pages and all those relating to Polis and Latchi.
A husky expert rang and gave me tips for getting Mickey back home, including walking the remaining husky, Alfie, as the pack attracts each other, and dropping yummy dog treats all along the way. Alfie thought this the best walk of his life – possibly the best day, as he was walked almost continuously as I retraced our steps and stopped everybody with “Have you seen another dog like this?”
The poor lady I’d confronted earlier was also accosted by a neighbour, and then by my partner, who told me she’d yelled “It’s a different dog!” as he approached.
How to spend the day when one’s lost the dog one’s meant to be looking after? At every moment I felt I should be doing more. I couldn’t think beyond finding Mickey. I could keep walking and looking, but I might be going in the wrong direction, and what if he found his way home and I was out? I made all kinds of deals with the powers above that day. Mickey’s owner woke up at what was 3am for him and advised as best he could, and said he wouldn’t wake his wife just yet as there was little they could do from there. I promised to do everything I could to find Mickey before she woke up.
As the sky began to darken, a lady phoned to say she’d just seen my post, and recognised the dog as one she’d seen wandering on the beach. I drove to the place she’d described, up and down, but no sign of Mickey. The light was fading by the second and I knew in a few minutes it would be too dark to search. Which way to look? Then another call “I’ve got your dog”:four utterly magical words! I drove to the new location given, realising that the caller hadn’t described the dog, and I might be wasting the last minutes of daylight on the wrong animal. Up ahead I spied the silhouette of a woman and a husky-sized dog, but despite the fact that this dog had a yellow flashing light on his collar just like Mickey, I wouldn’t let myself believe…until I was close enough to recognise his face.
Whilst thanking this glorious lady, Michelle, and God, and The Universe, profusely, and melting with relief, my what-to-do-now-plan was running through my mind as I had no facility to take dogs in my car. I’d pretty much decided to abandon the car and walk Mickey home, but when I opened the car door to get Mickey’s lead, he hopped in and settled happily on the passenger seat.
Ten minutes later he was home, thoroughly barked at by Alfie, fed, and asleep, while I had the joyous task of letting everyone involved know the good news. His owner agreed that rather than deleting all the posts and leaving his wife in blissful ignorance of Mickey’s adventure, it would be nicer to give everyone a happy update. There were dozens of delighted comments. Looking through them, I could see that Michelle had posted about finding a dog on a Polis page I didn’t know about, but a keen-eyed facebook user had seen her post and mine and linked them up – and since then many local people have told me they were out looking that day. Polis, Latchi and Prodromi are a fabulous community, online and in person.
Three days later I’d visited home and was driving back, just as the light was failing, through Trimthousa, when a pot bellied pig in a woolly jumper ran ahead of me up the road. In the mirror, I spotted an elderly Cypriot man bearing an empty harness, out of breath but trying to force himself uphill in pursuit of the pig. I absolutely felt for him, so I pulled over and followed the pig myself. It transpired to be a pug, growling and foaming at the mouth, and not endearing me to grab him, but I did my best to veer him back downhill towards his owner. People appeared to watch/help/laugh, and more cars stopped to help, whilst others tried to run down the pug. A lady came out of her house and offered to release her dogs into her yard to encourage the pug; she did so, and the runaway headed straight to her fence to yap back at her dogs, whereupon several villagers leapt upon the escapee who was soon was safely harnessed to his exhausted owner.
I got back in my car, noted that darkness had completely fallen, and was once again grateful not to be looking for a lost pet.
Under normal circumstances, Jezebel hosts Quiz Nights/Days at The Mansion in Konia and Jukebox Bingo at Carpe Diem, Mesogi Road, and sings in various venues. See www.groovejetmedia.com for details once venues reopen.
