A Scary Kerry Story

by Lisa Frankland
From the July 1993 issue of Kerry Klips.

I lost my dog the night of June 30th. It was only for a couple of hours, but that was enough to make me feel shook up every time I think of it. Lav is rarely allowed to run off lead, and usually then, only in areas with a clear view and no roads nearby, such as the undeveloped and often deserted beaches at Vandenberg. That evening, however, as we walked along a path outside the base housing area, Lav heard some noises in a scrub oak thicket and started doing his "dogalope" jumps and caprioles. On impulse, I unsnapped his flexi-lead and said, "Go get 'em, Lav," figuring that he'd crash around in the brush for a few minutes and return. I even remember thinking that I was going to regret this, though at the time I didn't know how much.

Lav flew into thicket and crashed around happily for a few minutes. I called him back and started walking up the path towards home. Lav momentarily reappeared about ten yards behind me and then disappeared back into the brush. I walked back to where he had been, calling, "Lav, here," my informal recall command, and then "Lav, come!" Except for some small animal noises, it was dead quiet--no jingling rabies tag, no thirty-six pounds of Kerry barreling through the brush. As I alternated calling and listening, I could hear cars whizzing by on the nearby road (I hadn't realized how close until then). After some time had passed with no sign of Lav, I ran back home, hysterically enlisted Aaron's help, and returned.

Aaron called Lav. I called Lav. Aaron drove slowly down the road nearby, in case Lav had decided to go out on it. I yelled all of Lav's favorite buzzwords--"cookie," "squirrel," "puppy hugs," "ride," hoping to hear an excited rustle in response. Aaron fought his way into the thicket where I had last seen Lav, thinking that maybe he had caught his collar on something. It was now dark, but luckily the moon was almost full, and we could still see fairly well. I was crying at this point, imagining the worst: Lav dead in the middle of the road; Lav ambushed by coyotes; Lav dying of a rattlesnake bite; Lav caught in something, slowly dying of hunger and thirst (if the coyotes didn't find him first) while we called and searched just a few feet away. The overwhelming depression and anxiety I felt cannot be described, but it is something I would not wish on even my worst enemy.

After what seemed like eternity (it was actually less than two hours), I spotted Lav trotting up the path towards me. I think he had gone off following some irresistible scent, gotten lost, located the path, and found his way back that way. He was covered with burrs, fleas, and ticks, but thankfully unhurt. It took me over an hour to comb all of the crud out of his coat, but I didn't care. My wonderful "hairy Kerry" was home!

I know that what happened was my fault. I should have known that the sounds and smells of the rural area that we live in would be too much temptation for a terrier that was born and raised in suburbia. However, how many of us go tsk-tsk over the lost dog ads in the local paper, believing that it can never happen to our dogs because we are "responsible dog owners." Well, I consider myself a responsible dog owner, and it almost happened to me. Lav is tattooed, wears a collar with tags, has all his shots, a fenced yard, brushes his teeth, and buckles his seatbelt in the car. I always walk him on lead and pick up after him. Most importantly, Lav is obedience trained--having since earned his CDX with some utility training, which means that I normally have excellent off-lead control.

I also ignored a piece of my own advice. When I taught a puppy class in Colorado Springs, one thing I always stressed was, "Go ahead and boundary train your dog, teach him to come when called, stay, drop on command and all that other stuff, but don't ever, ever bet your dog's life on it." I have been going to obedience classes with Lav for three years; during that time the other students and I have signed our names to two sympathy cards for classmates whose dogs ran loose and got hit by cars. A friend who is a Dalmatian breeder told me that one of the top ranked obedience dogs in her breed, a Dal with a UD, was killed by a car when he ran into the street. Just remember, it can happen to anyone. It only takes one careless or impulsive moment for a dog to get into trouble. I was lucky this time. Lav did not become just another lost dog or road kill statistic. However, I can say from experience that the fun of letting your dog off lead in an area that is not reasonably safe in the event that he chooses to ignore you is not worth even five minutes of wondering and worrying, or, worst case scenario, a dead or missing dog.