tinahdee

Yesterday turned out to be a very interesting day. It began not so different than other weekend mornings – I got up early to make coffee; Darin decided to take Ian, our oldest son, to the wilderness park by the Hillsborough River. I’m usually the one who takes this boy or that to the river, so in that way the morning was special.

Darin grabbed his coffee and they hopped in the van to leave, the three of them (Elby, our 2 year old boxer mix, loves going to the river and so we take him pretty much every time we go.) I didn’t expect them back soon; I knew that with dad leading the charge, the expedition may go far and wide. Much farther and wider than it would with me as the leader. So I thought nothing of it when noontime came and went with no sign of them. I was supposed to be out in my workshop making jewelry, but I was instead “doing things” on the computer, looking with intent at the pile of laundry, and generally procrastinating. I was just getting ready to make my way out there, when I heard Darin walking down the hall. “Well hello there!” I greeted him with a smile – but looking at the expression on his face, immediately I knew something was wrong.

“I’m afraid I have some bad news,” he said. The first thing I thought of was Ian – something horrible had happened to him – but before I could verbalize that thought I saw my son as he walked up behind his father. “It’s Elby, he didn’t come back with us.” They had seen deer, lots of them, and Elby had taken off into the swamp after them. The first time he came back, but the second time, he just disappeared.

Darin and Ian had spent the next few hours sloshing through the cypress swamps calling for Elby, but there was no sign of him anywhere. He was wearing a waterproof training collar, but there was no response. It was as if he had vanished. Darin had hurt his knee and both he and Ian were muddy and tired, but they were going back out again to look for Elby some more.

After a minute of processing all this, I grabbed my socks and shoes and headed out the door with them. The wilderness park is acres and acres of heavily wooded swamp that normally this time of year would be dry and easier to traverse; but with all the rain we’ve had the river is swollen and ven the driest part of the surrounding area is saturated and uncertain. Ian and I were to take the main path after I dropped Darin off at the firebreak about 1/4 of a mile across the park. He was going to trek through the thickest part of the wilds and swamp to see if he could find Elby. We thought the worst – Elby is such a people dog and not really independent at all. He’d never want to be separated from his family.  He must have been injured, or simply lost his way and been unable to hear Darin and Ian calling him – now where was he though?

The main path proved fruitless – Ian and I could only go so far before the swamp waters were too deep to cross. We cut over in a loop and made our own trail from dry patch to dry patch, sometimes connecting them with short hops through the water, calling out all along the way, “Elby come!” I knew that if he could have heard us he would have obeyed. We were losing what little hope we had started with.

Our improvised trail finally took us back to the entrance of the park. Before long, Darin emerged from his journey, limping and downcast. We had tried and failed. But at least we had tried. Not wanting to finally leave and close the door on possibilities, we drove through the nearest neighborhood in hopes that he had been drawn to humanity and we’d see him romping with some children in a stranger’s backyard, or chasing an unfortunate cat down the middle of the road. Finally we made our way home to break the news to the younger ones: no Elby.

It’s not that I missed the dog all that much. All the trouble he had been. If you knew Elby, you’d understand. But to be the bearer of heartbreak to my children – to see my “strong and silent” youngest boy break down sobbing – well, that was just a bit too much for me to take. I think Elby’s disappearance and our ensuing emotional reaction to it caught us all a little by surprise. Darin’s knee was throbbing and he could hardly walk, so I drew a hot bath for him to soak in. But he couldn’t relax – not five minutes went by and he was out of the bath, asking me to make some “lost dog” flyers. He had no peace. He felt as though he was letting Elby down. And he was going back. “Kenzie will want to go with you,” I said. I printed out the flyers, and once again, Darin, Ian, and now Kenzie, headed out for the eleven mile trip. It was close to dark now.

Elby at one year

It’s getting late, and I’m running out of energy to finish this story. So rather than hasten to the end, I’m going to continue tomorrow.