Ollie worked the first two years of his life as a breeding dog. During that time, he had not seen the outside of a cage. Captivity was especially traumatic for a Jack Russell breed because of their inherent high energy. His first puppy years were presumably to blame for Ollie’s incurable nervousness. Now ten years old, he was frightened of people. It would take time to gain his trust.
During our first night together, Ollie was awake most of the night, pacing, panting with faint ‘under the breath’ whimpers. Getting him ready for a walk early the following day was challenging. It was 5:30 am, still dark and pre-cup of coffee. As I was about to put his harness on, he lifted his leg against a dresser. I squealed out a loud “Oh no! Wait, Ollie…thirty more seconds, and we can go outside!” Instead of acknowledging that he understood what this strange human-dognapper had just said, poor little Ollie started to shake. Mistake one. He doesn’t seem to like the word ‘no.’
He needed his coat on, but Ollie resisted our attempts to put anything on him. I was trying to do this quickly. I knew he needed to relieve himself and didn’t want to add to his growing anxiety. Ollie was likely sensing mine. Finally, Dave clipped his leash to his collar, and Ollie and I left in a hurry. I knew Ollie liked it outside.
The backyard was dark. Envisioning the multiple baths due to a squirt from our resident skunk was motivation enough to leave the safety of our fenced-in backyard and go around one quick block—mistake two.
A few houses down, Ollie wanted to use the full extension of his leash to go to the middle of a neighbour’s lawn. He pooped. Oh, dear! In my hurried leave to get out the door, I forgot poop bags. I made a mental note to go back and clean up the poop when it was light out. I would never find the plop pile in the dark anyway. We went around the corner and down the block, dodged a few neighbourhood skunks, and we were on the home stretch headed back to my house. Ollie did his business, and it was past time for coffee!
With absolutely no warning, Ollie stopped abruptly. Clearly not interested in my coffee, he held his ground. “Come on, Ollie, let’s go home.” I gently tug on his leash, and Ollie backs out of his collar. There he stood, dog-naked of his tags, collars and anything that could identify him other than his fur. We both looked at each other stunned. Ollie realized his opportunity as I began to beg God, the universe, and any superior force who may be listening for this NOT to be happening. He bolted on a journey that would permanently etch my heart. I ran that scene in my head thousands of times. Why didn’t I lunge and grab him? If even, I only caught his tail. I didn’t want to scare him; I was still feeling bad for making him shake earlier. If I had known what would ensue, his feelings would have been my last concern—mistake three.
When Ollie immediately realized that not only did he get his way but that he was free, he turned and trotted away. I tried to act like nothing was wrong and followed him. I didn’t want to scare him into a full-blown breakaway. He sensed me gaining on him, and his pace grew faster. So did mine. I ran at full speed in seconds, and Ollie headed toward Adelaide, a busy four-lane street. I had to change tactics and head him off before he crossed Adelaide. I stopped the chase and instead called his name. That made him run faster. Dear God, I couldn’t watch this. Dodging between cars, he crossed Adelaide and safely made it to the other side. I did the same. I followed him around that neighbourhood for a while; then, he turned to go back to where he had come. Oh please, NO, Ollie! Don’t try that again. The extreme anguish of his suicidal Adelaide Street ventures shortened my life with every crossing.
I needed help and called my husband, Dave, who valiantly dropped everything and came out to help with the search. Over the phone, we coordinated to try and corner Ollie. Dave had a few sightings but lost him. We finally met on the Adelaide Street corner, trying to prevent Ollie from crossing again, and he popped out from nowhere just a few feet in front of us. Ollie crossed Adelaide for the third time, and Dave was not far behind him.
It was my last sighting of Ollie.
For hours, Dave and I drove and walked around searching for Ollie.
About mid-morning, the reality was setting in. What if we couldn’t find Ollie?
I called my son, who is a police officer. He suggested I post Ollie’s disappearance and photo on the K9 Ground search, a volunteer organization that helps find missing dogs. My daughter-in-law called the police and reported it. The police came out to search, and the mail carriers were on the lookout. We asked many people in the neighbourhoods out walking if they had seen a little white dog. Some took down our telephone numbers. There were a few sightings that we chased down during the day, but by the time I got there, he was gone. But the sightings from others gave me some hope.
At least Ollie was still alive.
I was famished. The noon-hour fast approaching prompted Dave to ask me what I would like to eat. I did not have the mental capacity to answer. All I wanted was that little dog out there in the dangerous world to return. I couldn’t make decisions; I couldn’t focus on anything other than getting Ollie back. I subconsciously noticed Dave’s disappearance when he came back with lunch.
The only thing more devastating than losing your best friend is losing someone else’s.
It was time to call my friend, who had recommended my dog sitting services. I had to tell him what had happened. “It’s Ollie,” I said with every ounce of energy. Then a brief silence while I decided how to start. I told Bert the story, and he dropped what he was doing and came out to join the search.
For much of the day, I debated what point I should call Shelley, Ollie’s beloved human. I was hoping to have Ollie back when I told her. I didn’t want to ruin her four-day vacation, but I also didn’t want her to find out that Ollie was missing over social media. There were over 450 shares of Ollie’s disappearance posting.
I received the dreaded text from Shelley about dinner time. I knew it would come; she would want an update on how Ollie was doing. At least I could stop agonizing over the decision to call her.
I technically lost her darling little Ollie on the first day of the job.
Shelley had trouble sleeping the night before. She was, by nature, a ‘worrier,’ but this was a different level of anxiety. It was the first night Ollie had been away from home since she rescued him from his terrible situation eight years ago.
Shelley warned me about Ollie’s nervous temperament. She warned me that he could back out of his harness. Noted.
The last thing I said to Shelley as she passed her little dog to my care was, don’t worry and have fun. Ollie will be safe.
It was the worst phone call of my life. I don’t remember much from that call. There was some swearing…. understandably, she was distressed, possibly angry, and worried. We were both crying.
After hanging up, I mindlessly turned the ignition to the truck…where to now? Where would Ollie be? I decided to try the soccer fields and dog park. A long shot, but perhaps the smell of other dogs would attract Ollie there.
As I contemplated where I might go if I was a little dog in this vast area, I received a call from the police. Officer Kathy, who had been out looking for Ollie, had been monitoring Facebook and told me there was a post of a sighting three seconds old. She asked if I could get over to the location because she was too far away. My heart exploded! Someone had Ollie in their backyard! He could escape, but he wasn’t aware for the moment that he could.
When I arrived, a few neighbours were waiting for me. And there was Ollie! He did look like he was trapped. I jumped the fence, took off my coat, and threw it over Ollie, so he would have more difficulty running past me if he tried. I was surprised at the transformation of this cute little dog. He snarled and growled at me, then bit me three times.
I hung on tight. I didn’t want Ollie to get away, in part to comfort him. He must have been terrified and exhausted. And in part because of the absolute, indescribable joy of having Ollie back. When Dave arrived a few moments later, I had Ollie in my arms ending the twelve-hour search and at least four crossings (that I am aware of) of the four-lane Adelaide Street traffic.
We put Ollie in the car, and I hugged my neighbour, a perfect stranger.
There were more tears than my first call to her. “Shelley, we found him. He is safe. He is here with me now.”
My second call was to my friend, who had been out searching for much of the afternoon. Bert had gotten lost in the woods in his efforts to stay clear of the five deer he saw, who may have had little calves close.
That night, I stared at Ollie Dollie, who peacefully slept in my bed after his tremendously long day, probably dreaming about his great adventure. I made a mental note to abolish all house policies. Ollie rules. I will not breathe the word ‘no’ to him.
Writing this story took me a while until I could re-live that day with some reduced anguish. It was one of the most frightening days I have ever experienced. But getting Ollie back left me with the most intense, indescribable feeling of gratitude.
Something also changed in Ollie. After a long sleep, he seemed to be more comfortable with me. Over the next three days, we had many less dangerous adventures, long walks and lots of doggie cuddles.
Dear Everyone,
It was the worst day, and thanks to you all and your kindness, it was the best day.
To my Dave, who dropped his entire busy agenda for the day to help find Ollie, who did everything possible to support me while my world stopped. In all his positivity, he commented the following day. “It was an experience….it was a new page, but I didn’t get to do all the colouring on it.”
To our dear friend Bert who recommended my dog sitting services to Shelley a year earlier and also dropped everything to join the search.
To the London Police, especially Kathy, who helped with the ground search, the K9 Ground Search and the North London Neighbourhood Facebook groups, and everyone who shared the posts and reported sightings. There were over 450 shares in one day!
To my son, my daughter-in-law, and her parents for their help.
To my sister-in-law, who was awoken much before her regular wake-up time by her brother to be conscripted to join the search.
To the post office mail carriers, all the passers-by who took my phone number in case they saw Ollie.
And to the couple who contained Ollie until I arrived.
To everyone that helped find Ollie, a thousand thank yous.
Finally, to Shelley and Ollie… the most wonderful thing to come out of this experience is I have two new friends. Thank you for your forgiveness!
The next day… I bought Ollie an additional harness.
Ollie- “I feel the new doggie sitter is being excessive…it was one little adventure!“