The surprising trick to tracking down a lost dog
It’s all in your scent, says Victoria Panton Bacon, who found her missing hound in time for tomorrow’s National Dog Day
Her escape was entirely my fault. I was rushing between collecting my sons from school and ferrying them to their swimming lesson in the South Norfolk village of Dickleburgh. Zephyr, our eight-year-old Jack Russell terrier, was with me in the car and had jumped out for a quick run around, while I ushered the boys into the back seats. The pool is a 15-minute drive away and they are often told off if we are late – which is probably why I forgot to put Zephyr back inside. By the time I realised, it was too late – I had driven off without her.
When the truth dawned, about an hour later, we rushed back to the scene. With my sons, Rollo, 10, and Ranulph, seven, I shouted myself hoarse, pleading for her to return. We drove all around Dickleburgh and for miles along surrounding country lanes, but to no avail: Zephyr had vanished. The night was still young and, being July, it was still light so we tried not to panic. But I had a horrid, sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Would we ever see her again?
Returning to our house without her, four miles away in Harleston, was crushing. The reality of the situation hit me as I crawled into bed and tried to sleep, close to midnight. I turned my final image of her over and over in my mind. Missing: Jack Russell terrier, barely five inches off the ground, with chocolate brown ears, splodgy white fur and weepy eyes. She wasn’t the only one.
My spirits, however, were soon buoyed by the response from our friends and neighbours. News was travelling fast. By the following morning an acquaintance had created a “Get Zephyr Home” Facebook page, and possible sightings were being listed. My telephone buzzed at regular intervals, with messages of compassion and support. People I hardly knew wanted to be part of the search. And so it continued, unabated, for almost a fortnight. It was an extraordinary time; an exhausting emotional rollercoaster that tested the resolve of an animal loving community, and the mettle of those with even the most dogged determination.
Finding missing dogs is something of a science, and – as I quickly learnt – there are tried and tested methods which dramatically up the likelihood of success. Roz, a local dog lover I hadn’t met before, taught me all I needed to know. We met early one evening a week into Zephyr’s disappearance, putting some sardines (her favourite food) into a cage that Roz placed where Zephyr was last seen. She had also printed out posters and attached them to the cage, urging walkers – anyone with any knowledge – to contact us.
To my astonishment, Roz then asked me to remove my bra, and hang it on a tree nearby. “It’s all in the scent,” she said. Fortunately, it was about 8.30am and no one spotted us – the sight of two women hurling lingerie into the branches would undoubtedly have raised a few eyebrows.
Roz explained that Zephyr would be moving in a triangle, and recommended I place more “scented” items where the three points were most likely to be. So, later that evening I found myself tearing the cotton sheet off my bed into three parts, and placing the ragged strips on the “corners” of Zephyr’s imaginary route. And it didn’t stop there – on to the sheet went a toy (scented), crispy bacon (what dog couldn resist?) and some wee (enough said). Another person eager to help was Sam, a resident dog owner brimming with tenacity and resolve. She didn’t work alone, roping her small pack of Czech wolf dogs – used to sniffing out lost little ones – into the search. Together with Loki – one of her wolf-like hounds – we spent hours looking high and low.
I can’t be certain, of course, whether Zephyr’s return had anything to do with my bra, or if Loki was the key. All I know is that one day, almost a fortnight later, we found her – close to where I had placed those sections of bedsheet. It was Ranulph and his father, Richard – accompanied by Sam and her dogs – who made the discovery. Walking along, Ranulph suddenly spotted Zephyr in a scrabbly ditch – just sitting there, seemingly without a care in the world.
I was on a train at the time and almost dropped my phone when I heard the news – guilt and relief simultaneously shooting through my veins. We had Zephyr back, just at the point we were all becoming overwhelmed by the intensity of the search and had almost given up hope. We had even, forlornly, put her drinking bowl away, such was the pain of seeing it unused on the floor.
Zephyr, meanwhile, was totally oblivious to the suffering we had gone
‘Jack Russells are an intrepid breed – so I suspect Zephyr had a real adventure’
through over those 13 days. She looked fine and wasn’t even hungry – we think she must have eaten rabbits to survive – though she was a bit perplexed to suddenly be back in the family, after weeks of freedom.
Three weeks on, I am still not entirely sure that Zephyr actually wanted to return home. That might sound awful, but Jack Russells are a curious and intrepid breed and, while we will never know where she was, I suspect she had a real adventure. Not that it seems to have done her any harm; she is back and wagging her tail, as though none of it ever happened.
We, however, may never be the same again. During Zephyr’s absence, I found a loveliness in our community that was both humbling and comforting. Life is a little bit different now and I feel safer somehow, knowing that – in times of great need – we have neighbours prepared to rally round and devote their time to helping us. Just as tomorrow, which is National Dog Day in Britain, we will rally round Zephyr and make sure she knows just how much her family is devoted to her.
The thought that she might ever run away again is too awful to imagine but I also know that all I would need to do is call on our new-found friends – and hang a few of my bras on a tree.