The Rip Van Wrinkler, XVIII, Issue 3, August 2014
Page 7 <previous page> <next page>
Courage symbol
RiRi's Big Adventure
Her story by Karla Schreiber
Page 1
“It was a dark and stormy night….” Actually, it was not one, but TWO dark and stormy nights – and my 20 month old half-native stock Basenji girl, Rihanna (UKC Ch. Lukuru FoPaw’s Like Diamonds at New World) was outside - and lost - during both of them!
I let my three youngest Basenjis outside at 8:30 p.m. on Monday, June 23rd, and I watched from the backdoor as always, scanning my stockade fenced yard for critters the kidz might be inclined to chase. Portia, Warren and RiRi ran to the middle of my fence-line (about 200 yards from the house) and pressed their collective noses to the bottom of the fence. “Probably just a rabbit or squirrel on the other side,” I thought. The ground was very soft from recent rains, so I headed out the back door immediately, but before I could reach the threesome, Rihanna vaporized under the fence, through a tiny indentation (not even worthy of being called a “hole”) that Portia and Warren couldn’t fit their heads through! Concerned, but not panicked, I grabbed Portia and Warren, tossed them into the kitchen, and ran to retrieve Rihanna from the neighbor’s backyard. When I rounded the corner, she was standing in the middle of the yard, not more than 50 feet in front of me. I started toward her, calling her as calmly as possible, when I noticed a large yellow Lab standing in the opposite corner of the yard. “Ah-ha,” I thought – “that explains it!” Ri is more social with other dogs than the rest of my crew. It made sense to me that she might be enticed leave the yard to visit another dog.
I was only 20 feet from Ri when fate intervened in the worst possible way. The owner of the Lab, clearly distraught, raced into the yard, screaming his dog’s name and waiving his arms frantically. Ri took one look at this overwrought stranger, and did what her instincts told her to do.…she took off down Wheeling Road at about 25 mph. I could still see her at this point, and it was not a high traffic time of day, so I still wasn’t panicked. When I reached the corner of Wheeling Road and Camp McDonald Road, a neighbor told me that Ri was in his open car port. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, but unfortunately, she’d bolted again. Now, I realized, this was serious. I’d lost sight of her, it was getting darker, and it was starting to rain.
My next door neighbor heard the commotion, and picked me up in her car so we could search the area. Little did we know we were searching the wrong area. In desperation, after about 30 minutes and with nightfall upon us, my neighbor and I drove back down Wheeling Road. When we reached Clair street, a car was parked on the opposite side of the road, and the driver waived us down. My heart sank, thinking (just one of a thousand times during the next 38 hours) that this could only be the worst possible news. However, the driver was the owner of the escaped (and now recovered) yellow Lab – he had been trying to follow Ri, and saw her cross Wheeling Road into the Clair subdivision. That was the last confirmed sighintg of Ri for 38 hours.
It was now pitch black, and raining harder. I asked my neighbor to drive me back home, jumped into my van, and drove to the police station. I live in a small community – only 17,000 people – and didn’t think anybody would be at the station that late at night. The dispatcher was there, however, and took my missing dog report. It was now nearly 11:00 p.m., pouring rain, with thunder and lightening. I went home, threw on a raincoat, leashed up Warren, and we proceeded to walk the half-mile back to the Clair subdivision (no sidewalk, no streetlights). With Coleman lantern in hand, Warren and I walked up and down every street in the Clair subdivision until nearly 2:00 a.m., when I finally realized we were both too exhausted to continue. I carried Warren the half-mile back home, dried him off, fed and pottied my other dogs, and went back out to put an open crate in my garage, and pans of food on the front and back porch, hoping that Ri might find her way home.
Unable to sleep, and with every neuron firing, I sat down at my computer to file a lost dog report with Lost Dog Illinois (www.lostdogillinois.org). While I was entering RiRi’s info, I noticed the “print a flyer now” link on the Lost Dogs website – so I clicked it. The Lost Dog Illinois website allowed me to create a flier for Ri instantly – since I’d already entered all of her relevant information. All I had to do was upload her photo. This was extremely helpful because when you are under extreme stress, even the thought of creating a poster can be overwhelming. I also sent a note to the BCOSW member chat list, asking if anyone could help with a day-search on Tuesday.
phone # removed by editor
At 4:30 a.m. on Tuesday, I headed back to the police station to give fliers to the dispatcher. She taped a flier to the dispatch center window, and promised to give the others to officers as they arrived for their shifts. Then I headed back out again to search. I drove the Clair subdivision up and down, met a few early-rising neighbors retrieving their newspapers, and gave them fliers, too.
I’m forever grateful to Lisa Marshall, Don Goodrich, Nora Mayfield, Jennifer Ellin, Rande Mathers and Susan Cook – who came on Tuesday to walk and drive the entire area with me – including numerous trips through the Clair subdivision. We distributed fliers to postmen, the vet’s offices, the public swimming pool, sports center, and library. We walked and called until it started to get dark again. Unfortunately, there were no sightings, and as the sun started to set, so did my hope. I honestly wasn’t sure if I could face another night of waiting, watching, and walking. My usual ability to find a ray of hope in nearly every situation was in tatters. And as if on cue, as night fell on Tuesday, it started to thunder, and lightening, and then – again – to rain.
