Finding Old Dog's Lost Owner A Test Of Persistence
By KRISTEN LEVINE, Tribune correspondent
Published: November 18, 2008
Thu Hunter reunited with her dog, Blue. Kristen Levine found Blue wandering in her neighborhood, named him Henry and then set about looking for his owner.
As the nation prepares to give thanks this week, I add my own blessing to the list: Henry is home.
Henry — that's what we dubbed him — is a pudgy, 12-year-old Australian cattle dog I found wandering the streets of our neighborhood last month. The poor old guy appeared to be blind and deaf, and was not wearing a collar.
I figured I could get Henry home — either back to his or to a new one — in no time. I'm a seasoned pet professional, after all, with lots of contacts. No problem.
Problem! Lots of them.
But this story has a happy ending, and the take-home lost-and-found lesson is: Never give up.
When I found my sweet, elderly friend, I brought him home and started the "found dog" process I remembered well from my days working at the SPCA Tampa Bay. Within 30 minutes, I'd posted flyers throughout the neighborhood with his photo, description and where I found him, along with two cell phone numbers.
Day 2: To cover all the bases, I called all animal shelters within a 50-mile radius. I got annoying automated phone trees that had me chasing my tail, and more than one "voicemail-full." I turned to e-mailing the shelters. This approach generated responses within an hour from all but one shelter.
Faith restored, I filed found reports with each animal shelter via e-mail.
That night, we put our dear departed Zeke's old collar, with I.D. tags, on Henry, just in case he wandered off.
Day 3: Flyers hung and reports filed across the Bay area, we waited for the phone to ring.
Caring for Henry was a lot of work. He can't see, so we had to leash him and lead him out the back door whenever he needed a potty break. He couldn't be left alone because of all the blind-dog dangers about. Twice he tumbled down the back stairs when I took my eyes off him momentarily.
Day 4: No calls yet. We took Henry to the veterinarian to see if he had a microchip ID. None found. But while there, Henry had a physical, rabies shot, and treatment for minor ear and eye infections. We paid the bill, but not before parading Henry through the entire animal hospital at Hidden Oaks to see if any of the staff members recognized him. No one did.
Day 5: My cell phone rang during dinner. It was a desperate gentleman who'd lost a dog! But he was missing a 10-pound Pekinese, not a 50-pound cattle dog.
That night, Paul and I talked about the possibility that no one was looking for Henry.
We live in a quiet, rural neighborhood where unwanted pets often are abandoned. But it's such a difficult notion to grasp, how anyone could dump a sweet old companion, unable to see or hear.
Day 6: Henry definitely can't see a thing. He walked straight into the pool while looking for a place to chew a biscuit. Comically, he resurfaced, swam to the exit and walked out, never dropping his bone.
Later, I printed 10 more flyers and hung them in a broader radius about the neighborhood.
Day 7: Buck and Tank, our dog and cat, seemed to have accepted this long-term visitor. And Henry was learning to maneuver around the house without bumping into things.
Day 8: We called Connie Brooks at the SPCA Tampa Bay to ask a silly question. Would an Aussie breed rescue group take this guy into foster care? It was possible, she said, but we should consider bringing him to the SPCA because she had had previous successes finding homes for blind, deaf dogs.
Henry had grown used to sleeping on the comfy carpet in the guest room, and I couldn't justify making him wait for the right person to come along in a shelter environment. He'd probably be happier waiting here at our house.
Day 9: Liz from the Humane Society Pinellas called me to see whether we had found Henry's family. She promised to keep the report open.
Day 10-11: Paul and I discussed our options. We could take Henry to the SPCA, or we could keep him with us — maybe for the rest of his life. It's a struggle caring for a senior dog with health problems. We know because we've been doing it for our 13-year-old Lab mix, Buck. Could we handle another old, needy dog?
Day 12: A miracle! Driving home, Paul spotted a family standing outside their minivan, reading one of our Henry flyers. The family's elderly neighbor had asked their help in finding her lost dog, Blue.
After a thorough inquisition, Paul determined Henry was, indeed, Blue.
They took Blue home, just one street over. His owner called us to thank us and tell us Blue was a gift from her now-deceased husband. She was delighted to have him back home.
Earlier that day I had made a shopping list, which included buying Henry his own collar. I still plan to buy one and take it over to him.
Source: http://www2.tbo.com/content/2008/nov/18/finding-old-dogs-lost-owner-test-persistence
Henry — that's what we dubbed him — is a pudgy, 12-year-old Australian cattle dog I found wandering the streets of our neighborhood last month. The poor old guy appeared to be blind and deaf, and was not wearing a collar.
I figured I could get Henry home — either back to his or to a new one — in no time. I'm a seasoned pet professional, after all, with lots of contacts. No problem.
Problem! Lots of them.
But this story has a happy ending, and the take-home lost-and-found lesson is: Never give up.
When I found my sweet, elderly friend, I brought him home and started the "found dog" process I remembered well from my days working at the SPCA Tampa Bay. Within 30 minutes, I'd posted flyers throughout the neighborhood with his photo, description and where I found him, along with two cell phone numbers.
Day 2: To cover all the bases, I called all animal shelters within a 50-mile radius. I got annoying automated phone trees that had me chasing my tail, and more than one "voicemail-full." I turned to e-mailing the shelters. This approach generated responses within an hour from all but one shelter.
Faith restored, I filed found reports with each animal shelter via e-mail.
That night, we put our dear departed Zeke's old collar, with I.D. tags, on Henry, just in case he wandered off.
Day 3: Flyers hung and reports filed across the Bay area, we waited for the phone to ring.
Caring for Henry was a lot of work. He can't see, so we had to leash him and lead him out the back door whenever he needed a potty break. He couldn't be left alone because of all the blind-dog dangers about. Twice he tumbled down the back stairs when I took my eyes off him momentarily.
Day 4: No calls yet. We took Henry to the veterinarian to see if he had a microchip ID. None found. But while there, Henry had a physical, rabies shot, and treatment for minor ear and eye infections. We paid the bill, but not before parading Henry through the entire animal hospital at Hidden Oaks to see if any of the staff members recognized him. No one did.
Day 5: My cell phone rang during dinner. It was a desperate gentleman who'd lost a dog! But he was missing a 10-pound Pekinese, not a 50-pound cattle dog.
That night, Paul and I talked about the possibility that no one was looking for Henry.
We live in a quiet, rural neighborhood where unwanted pets often are abandoned. But it's such a difficult notion to grasp, how anyone could dump a sweet old companion, unable to see or hear.
Day 6: Henry definitely can't see a thing. He walked straight into the pool while looking for a place to chew a biscuit. Comically, he resurfaced, swam to the exit and walked out, never dropping his bone.
Later, I printed 10 more flyers and hung them in a broader radius about the neighborhood.
Day 7: Buck and Tank, our dog and cat, seemed to have accepted this long-term visitor. And Henry was learning to maneuver around the house without bumping into things.
Day 8: We called Connie Brooks at the SPCA Tampa Bay to ask a silly question. Would an Aussie breed rescue group take this guy into foster care? It was possible, she said, but we should consider bringing him to the SPCA because she had had previous successes finding homes for blind, deaf dogs.
Henry had grown used to sleeping on the comfy carpet in the guest room, and I couldn't justify making him wait for the right person to come along in a shelter environment. He'd probably be happier waiting here at our house.
Day 9: Liz from the Humane Society Pinellas called me to see whether we had found Henry's family. She promised to keep the report open.
Day 10-11: Paul and I discussed our options. We could take Henry to the SPCA, or we could keep him with us — maybe for the rest of his life. It's a struggle caring for a senior dog with health problems. We know because we've been doing it for our 13-year-old Lab mix, Buck. Could we handle another old, needy dog?
Day 12: A miracle! Driving home, Paul spotted a family standing outside their minivan, reading one of our Henry flyers. The family's elderly neighbor had asked their help in finding her lost dog, Blue.
After a thorough inquisition, Paul determined Henry was, indeed, Blue.
They took Blue home, just one street over. His owner called us to thank us and tell us Blue was a gift from her now-deceased husband. She was delighted to have him back home.
Earlier that day I had made a shopping list, which included buying Henry his own collar. I still plan to buy one and take it over to him.
Source: http://www2.tbo.com/content/2008/nov/18/finding-old-dogs-lost-owner-test-persistence
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