To the editor:
It happens to many of us and it’s never easy; a dog goes missing on a bitterly cold night. Where to go? What to do? Whom to call? I’m so unprepared; I feel so panicky, so alone. I called Animal Control, the Animal Shelter, the State Police and in doing so, received tremendous support and encouragement. Neighbor Nancy notified other neighbors and the search began. The next morning I took out an ad in the Houlton Pioneer Times, which luckily was to be published the very next day. I also distributed about 20 flyers with pertinent rescue information, once again, with incredible support. It would be too lengthy to describe where I posted the flyers, but out of 30 or so businesses, only two refused to post the flyer.
Although the events are still sad, Hawkeye still is not home, there was an odd silver lining to be found. On the third day, Ron and Doug, a pair of snowmobilers neither of which I knew, sighted Hawkeye on Snowmobile Trail 64 heading west. They stopped and one of them called his wife, Sue. She recalled the newspaper ad or a flyer, located it and then called me,
A short time later, a snowmobiling husband and wife, Dennis and April, also complete strangers to me, caught sight of the dog on the trail. They went home, located the newspaper ad and called me. Finding out I was presently walking the trail, Dennis and April headed back out on the snowmobile; she slowed to locate the dog while he came to fetch me. I was so astounded; this is way beyond expectation, because at this time, no doubt, I must have looked to all like an ax murderer with a leash in his hand. Bewildered and tired, I thanked him profusely. Dennis lifted his visor, his eyes crinkled a bit at the corners as he smiled and with genuine benignity he said something like: “We like dogs.”
There’s a lot of detail left out and it is emotionally devastating to get so close and still, fail, but we were unable to secure the rescue as the dog had left the trail. After a little more searching on foot near Timoney Mountain I had to back off. Once again, these folks came back to check on me and ultimately drove my exhausted body back to my car back at the New Limerick entrance to the trail.
Two days later, while putting up additional flyers, a young clerk at a variety store several communities away said she’d be delighted to help and posted the flyer. A customer in the check-out line said, “Hey, you’re the guy with the lost dog!” and proceeded to lighten my burden by telling me that all the dogs that get lost up on the Timoney Mountain usually end up at his house sooner or later since his house is near its western base and that he’d be sure to watch for him. I gave him a card with contact info and I left with much more hope than when I had arrived. I left the store with a newborn respect for America’s compassion.
To me, this experience is like a Disney movie unfolding in real time with many more enlightening moments than there is room to describe here. Local business establishments, snowmobilers, complete strangers and follow-up phone calls back from the animal shelter—the compassion I’ve witnessed is astounding. I’m nonplussed to say the least, and I wonder how it is that almost everyone in this community seems to know exactly what to say or do to turn a tragedy into something slightly less bleak. Is it basic human nature? I don’t think so. Something in the potatoes? Perhaps. Have I been a recluse too long and missed the transition to a more compassionate society? Maybe so.
Each night, still tired and worried I drift off to sleep wondering about this perceived humanity shift; how wrong I may have been in my past judgment. What a compassionate, unique community I’ve chosen to live in. How lucky can a person be!
I am compelled to say, from a still grief-stricken and worried recluse in New Limerick, from the deepest reaches of my soul, thank you to the entire community. You have made a difference in this person’s life.
Chris Devaney
New Limerick
