It's been a while since I last posted to the blog. Often, as I write, I consider what you, the reader, would want to know. This post is more for me than it is you. I am a weight lifting, motorcycle riding, risk taking man who would be the last person you'd think would be cooing over a tiny dog with a bow in her hair. But, a year and a half ago we rescued two Yorkshire Terriers who had spent their entire lives in a puppy mill. They quickly became part of the pack and were accepted by our other two dogs. These bundles of joy expressed their gratitude to us every day and became part of our lives as though they had always been there. The little one, Gigi, never got bigger than six pounds. She wasn't much bigger than a large squirrel! This little button of love cuddled with you no matter what you were doing. She was always underfoot, wanting to experience the world with you with every breath. She would crawl under the covers with my wife when we went to bed at night, lay by our feet when we worked in our home offices (we ended up putting beds in every room for her) and would sit outside the shower door watching and waiting for us to come out so we could be together again. When we would walk through the house you'd feel her gently touch the back of your leg as though she were letting you know that she's still there. All the dogs love to sit with us when we watch television, but she was always in the center of a lap, soaking up the attention as we stroked her soft hair. Gigi and Copper (the other Yorkie) only began playing like dogs about three months ago, and they got to go out on their first walks with a leash once it started getting warm. You could tell that Gigi though it was the greatest experience of her life

She stole my heart.

The dogs have a morning ritual. We get up, let them outside to do their business while we turn on the shower. Usually Gigi would be the first back at the door with Copper close behind. Being rescues they were very cautious of the outdoors and wanted to do their business and be back inside as quickly as possible. They never ventured more than twenty to thirty feet away from the house. The two larger dogs (eleven and eighteen pounds) like to roam around the outside of the house and explore, but never outside the yard.

March 29, 2019 was different. My wife let the dogs out, turned on the shower, and as expected Copper was at the door. She called for the other dogs bringing Bruiser and Daisy into the house to join Copper. She grabbed a flashlight, as it was still dark, and walked about calling for Gigi. I joined her and we searched the yard. We searched the neighborhood. Gigi was gone. We searched the entire day. We have been searching every day since. It didn't make sense. How could she vanish so instantly?

In the course of our search we notified all of the veterinarians in the area and gave them her chip number. We contacted the chip company to register her as lost. We notified the Humane Society and Metro Animal Services. We put out 800 flyers in mailboxes. We listed her missing on Nextdoor, through seven different Facebook pages, and paid for a listing on PawBoost. She is listed in Craigslist and I check all of these listings several times a day. I even flew drones over all the surrounding areas and woods looking for her. I tracked all of the game trails I could find looking for clues, sometimes confronted by neighbors I didn't know as I followed game trails through their private wooded areas

Nothing.

Even though there are three other dogs here there is a spark missing from the house. Every time we walk past the exterior doors we look for a little face peering in at us, wondering why she hasn't been let in to join us. It is never there. Every time I take a shower I look at the little mat that sits outside the glass door. It sits there empty. No expectant little face eagerly looking up at me. And often I cry. The water from the shower carrying my tears to the drain to vanish much like she did. I walk through the house, very conscious of the fact that I am missing the little touch to the back of my leg.

It has been weeks. No news. People say they saw a little dog that matches her description, but like a ghost, there is no little dog to be found. It doesn't get easier.

We fear the worst. She was small enough to be carried off by a great horned owl. Coyotes have been seen in and around our neighborhood. I can't help but imagine the pain and fear she would have experienced if she were taken by a predator. When I think about it I break down. But, still I search.

Being a Yorkie, and having hair instead of fur, if she is still alive she will eventually have to be groomed. Hopefully, the groomer will be one who requires proof of all shots. And, hopefully, the veterinarian who administers the shots will check her for a chip. And, hopefully, they will see she is reported as lost, get our contact information, and call us.

Hopefully.

I keep all of this pain and torment bottled up inside of me. I'm a guy...that's what we do. This blog is allowing me to express it. It's allowing me to feel the sorrow of my loss, and in sharing it, to hopefully relieve some of the emotional baggage. It allows me to sit at my desk and let the tears flow freely.

But, I have to stop now. I'm thinking that if I go out and drive around one more time, just maybe...