Friday Morning, December 12th, 2014
“Duchess is an agility grand champion and very obedient, the hallmark of the breed. She wouldn’t have just wandered off!”
I took a deep breath and waited while John Savage vented most of his anger.
He pulled a picture off his mantel and handed it to me. “That’s Duchess there on the left,” he said. “She’s a Lowchen.”
After studying the photo, I concluded that ‘Lowchen’ must be French for ‘mop’ because that’s what I felt like I was looking at but I didn’t dare express that opinion to the obviously agitated Savage. Instead, I passed the photo along to Janet to take a look at.
Savage wasn’t finished. He railed on about how someone must have breached the security of his home and snatched the dog the mere moment his back was turned.
I’d had enough and raised a hand to stop him mid-sentence, “Mr. Savage, I understand that Duchess is a very well trained, very valuable dog and with, I’m sure, a lot of accolades to her credit but, in my experience, most dogs aren’t stolen directly from their homes. They wander off while you’re out with them and your attention is drawn away for a minute and they get themselves into trouble or someone takes them then. Dog napping, if that’s in fact what happened here, tends to be a crime of opportunity.”
Savage fell silent.
I waited a few beats and then, after seeing his expression soften, I asked him, “So, what really happened Mr. Savage?”
The snooty dog owner used his index finger to gently push his horn rimmed glass back to the bridge of his nose. He sighed dramatically and then confessed, “I might have accidentally left the kitchen door open during dinner last night. We had sea bass and it smelled a little fishy in here. If that’s what happened, Duchess must have gotten out then.”
“When did you realize she was gone?” Janet asked him.
Savage tapped a finger to his lips, “Let me think...Oh, probably about 7:15 or so. We had Tab and Stephan in from Columbus for dinner. They left just after 7:00 to get back since poor Stephan had to work today. I went to the kitchen to start clearing then. Her day bed is in there next to her feeding stand. She wasn’t there like I assumed she would be and...and the door was still ajar. I remember it being very chilly in the kitchen.”
Janet asked him, “Can you point me to the kitchen?”
He beckoned her to follow and pointed into a room just off the dining room that I could see to an area that I couldn’t see from my vantage point. Janet disappeared in the direction he pointed, presumably to have a look outside.
I picked up where I left off with him, “So, what did you do once you realized she was gone?”
“Well, we searched the house and yard of course and checked with the neighbors but it was too dark then to see much of anything. I just hoped someone had found her and took her inside but she’s still not here and I’m beginning to worry.”
Janet came back into the room. “The yard isn’t fenced at all. She could have gotten pretty far, pretty easily, I’m afraid.”
That assessment tied it all up for me. “I’ll write up and report and we’ll notify the dog warden and ask him and the local groomers and so forth keep an eye out for Duchess.”
“That’s all? You’re not going search for her? She has a show right after the 1st of the year! We have work to do! I just can’t believe you’re not going to look for her...I’m...I’m speechless.”
He’s hardly that! I quickly got my feelings in check and tried to sound both calm and authoritative. “Mr. Savage, we’ll notify everyone that might know something, as I said, and patrol will certainly watch, especially in this area, for your dog. I’ll step them up in this area. That’s all I can do, for now. You can help us out by posting signs about Duchess and checking around the area with more of your neighbors and such too.”
Savage pursed his lips and nodded grimly.
“He’s the type that gives ‘queens’ their name,” Janet said to me, as she clicked her seat belt into place.
I shot her a look.
“What? I’m just saying...”
I interrupted her, “In this department we treat everyone the same, period.”
She nodded but she started straight ahead and seemed to sulk a little. After a minute or so of silence, she said, “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean anything derogatory or demeaning...not really, just making an observation, privately, to you because, well, I knew you’d understand what I meant.” She flicked her eyes at me and then back at the road in front of my county SUV.
“Look, Mason,” I was being formal with her on purpose, “I got your little joke, okay? Here’s the thing, long before you got here, it’s been a row to hoe in this county being a female Sheriff to begin with and being out on top of that. I’ve gained respect because I’ve given it. I watch everything I say and I expect my staff to do the same.”
I may have been mistaken, but I could have sworn I caught a grin from her before she turned her head away and muttered, “Got it Sheriff.”