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| Name: |
Mr. Scruffles
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Age: |
Four years old
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| Gender: |
Male |
Breed: |
Miniature Schnauzer |
| Home: |
San Diego, California, USA |
Mr. Scruffles
(Scruffy) was adopted from a "No Kill" shelter in South Texas. He joined my husband and I over one year ago. We have since lived in three different states (Military) and Scruffy has had to adjust to new surroundings quite often. He has endured all the changes quite well.
Then the scary incident happened - I woke up on a beautiful Friday morning to a dog that had just vomited on my yoga mat. Well, it seemed Scruff had come down with a bit of a bug since this was the third day in a row of his puking rally (keep in mind the yoga mat incident was praised versus the previous day when he threw up on my husband's stomach while he had been sleeping so peacefully). I immediately Googled "pet hospitals" in our area and found one located just down the street. They were so kind to me over the phone and scheduled Scruffy to come in at 9:30 that very morning.
Mistake #1
Being that I live in San Diego now, I find that I need to take advantage of the pedestrian lifestyle. I chose not to take the car, but to give Scruffy a good walk on the way to the vet appointment. The neighborhood we live in is called North Park. It is an up and coming district with many restaurants, bars, coffee shops, and pawn shops.. I did say up and coming.
Mistake #2
I put Scruffy in his orange and blue argyle collar and on our way we went. I am not sure what possessed me to do what came next, but I did it... I loosened the collar around his neck to make sure it would not choke him on our little walk.
Mistake #3
The street was extremely busy, as it was rush hour and there were many people out walking on the sidewalks. I managed to push through the crowds with Scruffy leading the way, only to think in my head, "Maybe I should carry him," but he seemed jolly and content so I let him be.
I was checking my phone and I could see the little blue dot on the Map App growing closer to the pet hospital. We were only a couple of blocks from our destination and all was well...
Lights up. Camera On. Scene.
Construction blow torch. LOUD NOISE. Scruffy jumped, wiggled, freaked out... and he was GONE!
Then I was RUNNING, RUNNING. RUNNING! SCREAMING, YELLING! "SCRUFFY!" "HELP!" "MY DOG!"
I have never run so fast in my life, my heart pounded, tears flowed, breathless sobs and screams for help. All of a sudden I was on the yellow line running down the middle of University Ave (busiest road in North Park) chasing my little, oh-so-tiny, puppy. Cars slamming on their brakes, horns blowing, people coming from all sides of the road to help catch the speeding bullet that was my miniature schnauzer.
"RUN! RUN! RUN!" Was all I could do and think. My feet followed the commands from my legs, my legs followed the commands from my head. All I could do was zero in on every vehicle coming directly at my dog.. First a car, then a meter reader cart, then A BUS!
OMG A BUS! OMG SOMEONE HELP!!!!! STOP THAT BUS!!!! PLEASE SOMEONE! ANYONE! HELP!!!! MY DOG!!!! HELP!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHH!!!
Gone.
Then he was gone.
All I could was stand there in the middle of the road turning around in circles and cry.
Did the bus get him? Did he keep going? Did someone catch him?
Then, as quickly as I stopped, my body took back over and I ran. I got onto the sidewalk and booked it. People all along the way yelling "keep going!!!" Pointing, "He went that way!!"
Block after block after block, people kept giving me directions to where he was running. Still, all I could think was, "Go, Amy, go!"
Then... it stopped. The final block I came to, no one had seen him. No one knew of what had just happened up the street. Not a soul could help me now. Just me and my gut instinct.
LEFT! I ran left down the side street, then right, then left, then doubled back, then south, then north.. diagonal, across, up, down, over, side to side... But, I had to come back to reality. I had to admit it.
I lost my dog.
All visual contact gone and no more witnesses to help me. I was alone and scared and I had no idea what to do. San Diego was still so new to me and so big... and Scruffy, so small.
I went back to the main road and people were coming up to me shouting, "Go make fliers!" "Go do it now!"
I thought, "FLIERS? Really, but shouldn't I continue to look?!?" I decided to call my husband and alert him to what had just happened, knowing that he was going to be completely devastated. He immediately scoffed at my current focus to go make fliers. He felt, like I did, that we needed to be out searching for the little guy. He came home and while he searched by car, I walked by foot putting up 107 fliers.
I have never been so weak and so drained. I was completely exhausted, but I was not going to give up. I had plans of putting up fliers across the entire city. I had plans of getting flashlights and a search party to go out at night. I had plans to look forever because I did not know, and I did not want to face, what life would be like if I had to go home and admit that the most important member of our family was not coming home with me.
I visited every damn telephone pole, park, coffee shop window, and intersection that North Park had to offer. Still, I was not convinced this was going to be enough. I took to the road and headed to the San Diego County Animal Shelter. I searched through dozens and dozens of kennels, hoping to find Scruffy. We put up a reward, took out two newspaper ads, a craigslist ad, and another online ad for lost pets. Friends got to their cars and drove for hours, covering areas of the city I would never have reached before sundown.
I decided to give it one more big push. I was going to drive around some more and my husband was going to man the phones at home and keep searching the internet for signs of our furry child.
I was a wreck and should not have been driving. I could barely see as my eyes were puffier than a cream puff at Christmas. My husband would call me to see if there were any updates and, of course, none. I kept driving only to be passing areas I had already covered, confused and tired. Finally, my phone rang, it was my husband.
"Amy, someone found him. They are bringing him home now. Come back."
"Hey, I wanted to let you know, I have your dog. Actually, I have had him ALL day. I found him this morning, shaking scared next to my truck. I put him in the house with my daughter to watch over him while I went to work. On my drive home, I saw your flyer posted. I will bring him by in 15 minutes."
The flyer. Wait, did he just say he saw our flyer. Wait, did that actually work??? OMG! Hallelujah!
So, a happy ending to this nightmare story. A purple truck pulled up and delivered to us an unscathed Scruffy, no worse for the wear. His mom and dad gushing over him as if he was brand new and more fragile than an egg shell. I scooped him up and ran up to our apartment. We hugged him so long and could not beare to let him leave our sight. Bliss was starting to creep back in when my husband turned to me (having held in his emotion all day, telling me mine was enough for the both us) and said "Okay, Amy, now I am mad at you..."
But I can assure you, those mistakes will never happen again!
Scruffy really only needs three things in life: toy Duck, toy Moose, and pizza crusts.
He is unusually small for being a miniature schnauzer, only ten pounds Most people mistake him for a puppy and are surprised to learn he is four years old. He is very shy and timid at first, but after a little while, he will smother you in kisses and make your lap his new home.
Scruffy and my husband are virtually inseparable. Where one goes, the other follows (yes, my husband will get up and follow him, too). The love that my 6'2", 185-pound husband has for our ten-pound furry child is untouchable.
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