Our son Nathan and his fiancée Kat came to visit a few weeks ago. And their dog, Riley, of course. They all love going to the ranch, trekking in the woods and riding the side-by-side all over the property. Riley’s definitely a city dog—the kids call her their bougie girl. But she loves communing with nature as long as it includes bottled water and high-end dog treats.
Just before the kids headed out, they took one last trip to the ranch. Nathan wanted Kat to shoot his handgun. John and I arrived later, to find our pampered fur baby had disappeared. She’d heard the gunshots and took off into the woods, but Nathan and Kat didn’t realize it until an hour later.
We called Riley and whistled and did all the expected actions to entice her back to civilization. Then we hopped on the side-by-sides and took off into the woods. We called her name and we yelled out her favorite word, “treat”. We spent an hour and a half searching without success. John called our neighbor, John Griffith, and asked him to pass the word to his crew we had a missing dog. Remember the word “neighbor” takes on a whole new meaning in the country—John’s property borders ours, about four miles from the place we’d last seen Riley. It was a long shot, but we were grasping at straws.
As we reached the three-hour mark, several friends showed up to look for our big city pet. I was getting nervous—this animal was accustomed to a cushioned bed and dishes brimming with luxury dog food and filtered water. As a miniature Australian Shepherd, she’d make a lovely treat for a bobcat or a coyote.
I drove back to our house to retrieve our silver Lab, Ruger. Remember, he’s the old soul, not the crackhead. He’s actually gone through training and can track a deer—well, sort of. He was definitely our last hope.
Ruger leaped out of my Jeep and ran toward the pond, barking excitedly. He looped around John’s truck, happy to begin his new adventure. My desperate plan was looking pretty, well, desperate.
Ruger continued his sniffing and barking and marking of territory. My brain worked frantically to devise another plan, interrupted by high-pitched barks filling my eardrums. Riley trotted from the woods, the same woods we’d searched for over two hours, and headed toward Ruger. Our cries and pleas had made no impact on her, but the thought of missing out on an adventure definitely did. We called off the search and laughed that our missing dog was never really missing. She just didn’t want to be found. Even big city dwellers need an adventure once in a while.
Jann Goar Franklin graduated Russellville High School in 1989 and currently resides in Grand Cane, Louisiana. You can reach her at jann@jannfranklin.com