16 TEAMS

The volunteers began arriving at my office promptly at ten. This time Mike and Jeanne Kataoka, fellow BFP rescuers and vegans, as well as former patrons of Chris’s wine store, joined us. Jeanne is an ordained animal chaplain, and they’d first learned of BFP when Percival and I were part of a talk at her spiritual center. They’d adopted two BFP dogs since that time. Mary and Liza, sisters and more BFP rescue family, arrived soon after with their two adorable blind beagles. And Jessica and Austin returned for another day. Once again, everyone put their name and phone number on the white board, and I created a group text message, allowing us to coordinate efforts.

By 10:15 Mike was on my speaker phone. He explained the idea of the perimeter and the area on which we should focus, while Chris handed out the maps. The map now included nine points—everything from Jessica and Austin’s apartment to where she’d entered the park, where the GPS died, where I’d been stationed with the warming box off Via Paloma, where she’d appeared on Les’s lawn, the sighting at the sheriff’s house, where Chris was seated when he thought he saw Poppy, and where that possible sighting was. I could not see a pattern. To me, it looked like Poppy was still running scared and darting all over the wilderness park. And the #5 spot on the map, the one at Les’s house, was far south and across Alessandro Boulevard—I could hardly stand to consider that. But Mike seemed to feel she was settling into a pattern. Based on the sightings and the topography, he said she was likely to be near where she’d appeared the morning before, which he said was the southeast corner of the park (and I just had to take his word for that). We would focus on that area, near the sheriff’s house, but also out in the wilderness park to form that perimeter and keep her contained in that wilderness cul-de-sac. The goal was another sighting so we could determine where to leave a humane trap.

I clung to the idea of a concrete goal. I tried to find encouragement that Mike saw a pattern even if I didn’t. But I was too tired to make sense of most of it, and I could see from the looks on the faces of the volunteers that they were also perhaps confused about how we set this perimeter. They were not clear on the plan. And I knew from recent experience it was hard to be sitting and waiting and not out walking and searching.

“Mike, maybe you can explain…” My phone rang before I could finish the thought. Without thinking, I hit the button rejecting the call and instantly regretted it. “Shit. Mike, my phone rang and it could have been someone calling about Poppy. I’m going to hang up with you to call them back. Chris, can you call him on your phone?”

I moved into my office and hit “call back,” cursing myself for not answering previously, and hoping someone would answer. Someone did.

“Hi. I’m sorry, I just missed your call.”

“Yeah, I was calling about your dog. She was in my yard this morning.”

“Oh my god. Okay, where? Was she okay?”

“She was in my neighbor’s yard yesterday and ran over here then, too. I think my neighbor called you about that. I’m catty-corner to the Sniffs. She came up from the canyon, into my yard, but she ran off when she saw me. Fast little thing.”

A neighbor! There is a pattern! She is exactly where Mike said she’d be.

I got the caller’s name and address and rushed back into my conference room.

“Another sighting!”

People gasped, cheered, shouted, talked, and did a lot of oh-my-god-ing. Or maybe that was just my brain. But we were excited.

“It was just this morning. And the guy that called is right next door to the yard she was in yesterday!”

Mike’s voice boomed through Chris’s speaker phone, “That’s it! We’ve got a pattern. We’ve got enough to set a trap. Everyone, listen up.”

The room vibrated silently. I think every one of us wanted to rush out the door and drive over to the neighborhood where we now knew Poppy was. I knew that’s exactly what Mike was trying to prevent. That would scare her off, and maybe for good. This is where controlling the people would really come into play, just as Mike and Babs had been talking about.

He tightened up the perimeter, moving people to spots further along that street and still out in the wilderness park, but a little closer in.

“Teresa, if you can get into a neighbor’s backyard to watch, that’s good. Just sit and watch. See where she’s headed. You’re the only one going to the house she was spotted at. Did he say you could go into his backyard?”

Darn it! “I forgot to ask. I’ll call him back.”

“Same drill, only this time you might be there awhile.”

“And it will be daylight.”

“More chicken. More chicken stock. I’ll get a trap and head out there this afternoon. Find out if we can set a trap in his yard.”

“Ok. I’ll go call him back.”

“And do you have the diatomaceous soil and the construction fencing? You’ll need those.”

“Chris was going to Home Depot after this. I’ll send someone else.”

Chris huddled over the maps with the rest of the volunteers, and they soon raced out to their cars and over to their assigned spots in the Mission Grove neighborhood where she’d been spotted.

I called Gordon, the gentleman whose house Poppy had now visited twice, and he readily agreed to let me camp out in his backyard and set whatever trap we needed. Whether it was all the coffee I’d had by then or the excitement of another recent sighting, I was wide awake and ready to go. Hello, second (third, fourth, eighteenth) wind!

Water bottle, snacks, blanket, and my journal were already in my car. I grabbed another water bottle from my office refrigerator and drove as calmly as I could to Gordon’s house. Mike called me as I drove.

“Do not let them all hang out at that house. Don’t give out the address.”

“I know. They know the street, but they’re spreading out. Chris is there with them. He gets it.”

“I know he does. He’s a good guy. His map has been extremely helpful.” He paused. “What are you going to do if you see her?”

I knew this was a test. I knew the answer too. Luckily, he wasn’t asking me if I was capable of doing what I should do. “Nothing. I’ll stay still. Watch to see where she goes and what she does. I’ll wait for her to come to me.”

“Good girl.”

“Do I get a treat?”

“Sure. Have some rotisserie chicken.”

“Ugh.”

“And if you see her while you’re driving down the street?”

That one I didn’t know. What would I do? “Don’t stop? Slow down? See if I can tell where she’s headed?”

“You can guide her with your car. If she runs forward, just drive past her and wait. When she passes you again, pull up past her again. Don’t follow behind her. If she’s headed to traffic get in front of her and head her the other way. Keep playing leapfrog. Just keep in mind she’s going to run away from you, not to you. And don’t call out to her. She’s running scared.”

“Let’s just hope I see her in the backyard and not out in the highway.”

“Looks like that’s where she’s hanging out.”

When I arrived at Gordon’s house, Chris greeted me in the street with matters well in hand. Gordon had told him that another nearby neighbor sighted Poppy on Lakewood Drive. The finger of wilderness park that came into this housing complex was bordered by Firwood to the south, where Gordon’s house was; Ironwood to the west, where the sheriff and his wife lived; and Lakewood to the north, where Poppy had now also been sighted. To the east this sliver of wilderness park opened to the larger wilderness canyon area and eventually, far to the east, the distribution centers I’d been lost in. She was staying in that smaller area, bordering all the homes, just as Mike had predicted.

Mary and Liza had gone to Lakewood, with Austin in the backyard of a house at the end of Firwood with an eastern exposure, and the Kataokas went a few more houses down, rounding the cul-de-sac, facing southeast into a property owned by the Metropolitan Water District with an expanse of dirt. No trees, no bushes, no rocks. If Poppy popped up there, she’d be easy to spot. These houses all had large yards, and they all faced the canyon. They also all had neighbors willing to help us find a lost dog.

Chris had also let Curtis and Melody know of the sighting, and they’d agreed to hike in toward the line of homes to find a vantage point from the east, looking west. I’d be in Gordon’s backyard, facing north. We had the perimeter set.

The rain had again stopped, and the sky had cleared up to a bright blue with only a few cottony, nonthreatening clouds and a vivid sun. A clear view on a clear day.

Gordon, a tall gray-haired man, walked me through his side gate, around to his backyard.

“She was right up here,” he pointed to a sliding glass door off his patio. “But when she saw me, she ran. Slipped right through that fence.” He pointed to the fence around the pool, and I shuddered, too easily envisioning her slipping and falling in. Luckily, he continued describing her flight. “Then as quickly as she went in, she was out the fence over there and ran down the hill into the canyon there. She’s quick. And she’ll need to be—lots of coyotes out there.”

“I know. Thanks. I’m going to go down there and sit watching for her.”

“Call me if you need anything. You’re welcome to stay as long as you need.”

I walked down the sloping yard, still muddy from the thunderstorms. The hillside had gnarled trees, with gray-brown leaves and exposed roots, and only a patch or two of grass. This did not seem to be an area where anyone spent much time. The main attraction was a large oak tree. The metal fence separating the yard from the wilderness park was only about four feet high and rusted, with a large gap in the corner where the fence did not meet the side wall. Poppy could easily slip through the opening. She probably could hop over the fence as well. She was a springy little thing. We’d seen her hop from the floor to a dining room tabletop without needing a running start. Sometimes this happened when breakfast was on the table.

I spread out the blanket in a spot near the big oak but still in the sun, sat down, propped up my water bottle in the dirt next to me, and opened my journal. If I was going to be there for hours, and if I was going to stay calm and let her come to me, I needed to distract myself. I thought I could write down what had been going on, and particularly all the advice Babs and Mike had given me. So much useful information that anyone who lost a dog would need. I hoped I could pay it forward one day.

After writing a few pages, I put the journal down and leaned back on my elbows, face up to the sky. The sunshine was soothing, seeping into my clothing and skin and warming me for the first time in four days. I took my sweatshirt off and pushed up the sleeves on my shirt. I could stay here. I was comfortable and the neighborhood was quiet. I could see into several neighbors’ backyards and down into the wilderness park. Directly in front of me was a huddle of trees and bushes that formed what looked like a cave. Was that where Poppy slept? Hidden in the bushes, tucked up near the houses, at the edge of the wilderness? Like Mike had said? The spot seemed almost safe, cozy. Almost.

My phone rang and I saw Chris’s number pop up.

“Hey.”

“We just saw her!” He was the most excited he’d been in days. “We all saw her. And it was definitely her!”

“Where? Which way was she going?”

“Toward you, I think. We all saw her. Austin saw her first, she went speeding by and passed where the Kataokas are, too. She was racing along the backyards, but behind a chain link fence, out in the Water District area. I saw her stop and put her little paws up on a wall, looking for a way through, I think. Then she was gone again, coming back this way, buzzing along the fence. She must have found an opening and slipped through—which is good. She’s not in the water district property anymore. She’s probably coming your way.”

No one was chasing her, which was good. They’d listened to Mike. I pictured our little Poppy with her paws up on a wall, with that inquisitive look in her dark eyes. I hoped I’d see that very scene live at the wall in front of me, right where the opening was. Any moment now. But I had to stay calm.

“Okay, call Mike. Let him know. I’m going to sit quietly and watch for her like he told me.”

I opened the bag of chicken and set it down closer to the fence line. Wind, do your thing. Carry that scent. I waved my sweatshirt in the wind a bit. I’d been wearing it for most of the four days, so Buddha only knew what it smelled like, but whatever the scent was, it was mine. Then I concentrated on slowing my heart rate back down to normal. Deep cleansing breaths and all that.

More than an hour went by with no sighting. No sounds. As far as I knew, Poppy had not come near me. But then, I hadn’t seen those coyotes that morning either, and they had definitely been there. All six of them.

Just after 1 P.M., I moved my blanket under the shade of the tree. The direct sunlight was too much after two hours. It felt both strange and comforting to be so quiet, so calm in the sun. We’d had two sightings that day alone, which caused bursts of excitement, followed by lulls. I felt in my now sun-warmed bones that we were getting close, but what did “close” mean in the context of a marathon?

Mary and Liza texted that their dogs were restless, and they needed to get out of the sun too. They’d drive around and post more flyers. I asked if they could get some chicken too. I was down to slim remains, and we had to bait the trap.

Jeanne and Mike had to leave by 3:00 P.M. Austin and Jessica didn’t have much more time either, as Austin needed to work that afternoon. Curtis and Melody were still out in the wilderness park, but since I knew they would have the long drive back and would need to get home to their dogs, I was worried we’d have no volunteers by the time Poppy showed up again. Despite the back-to-back sightings, our stakeouts had quickly gotten boring. And I’m sure it’s hard to convince yourself you are helping if all you’re doing is sitting in someone’s backyard. I knew that feeling too well. But in a couple of hours Mike would arrive with the trap. And the trap could do more than any of us could. The trap could catch Poppy. The trap would catch Poppy.

Chris texted, “I’m going to get us lunch while Austin is still here watching.”

“Good idea. This could be a very long day. Get me an iced tea, too.”

By the time Chris got back, I had nearly fallen asleep in my little I-only-look-homeless setup. I walked back up the hill of Gordon’s backyard and around to the side gate. Gordon had left it unlocked for me to come and go as I needed, but this was the first time I’d left my camp.

I took the bag with the Del Taco bean burrito (no cheese) and fries, and a giant iced tea from Chris.

“Do you want to just sit and eat it here?” he said.

I did. I wanted to sit with Chris. I wanted to just sit normally and talk for a moment. Well, not exactly normally, we’d be in his car or on a curb. What was ten minutes? Was she going to appear and leave again in the ten minutes I left to have lunch?

“Yeah. Quickly. But yeah, let’s just sit on the curb. You can tell me about seeing her. In all the sightings and all my time sitting stakeout, I have yet to see her myself.”

We sat and ate, and I sucked down my iced tea, as Chris told me about seeing Poppy.

“She slowed down eventually, but she had some serious speed.”

“So everyone keeps telling me. Did she seem okay? Not injured?”

“She seemed fine. Definitely not injured.”

Over Chris’s shoulder I saw movement. I leaned forward to look down the street.

“Do you see something?” Chris asked.

“I thought I saw a dog.”

We both turned to look. There was no dog, and it wasn’t hard to figure out I’d been concentrating so hard on seeing Poppy that I was likely going to hallucinate dogs.

But then a dog, small, white, with brown patches, trotted across the street at the open end of the cul-de-sac, five or six houses down.

“Jesus Christ!” Chris said.

“Okay, I’m going to drive down there. Just like Mike said. I’ll drive down and get her to head back down this way. Or just see where she’s going.”

I hurried to my car and drove slowly down the street, only my heart was racing. I no longer saw the dog, but I knew she’d turned right at the end of Firwood, so I did too.

Two houses down on the left a man was out mowing his lawn. The little dog was sitting in his driveway, watching. I drove closer. The man stopped the mower and called the dog over to him. The dog came right up to him and sat. He handed the dog a treat from his pocket. I saw then that the dog was smaller than Poppy and had pointed ears that went straight up, where Poppy had the typical floppy beagle ears. This dog also had a docked tail.

Not my girl.

For the second time that afternoon, I had to take deep breaths to return my heart rate to normal. This wasn’t a marathon; this was a damn decathalon on steroids.

I drove back to Gordon’s house and Chris.

“Not her. But you know how we always think Poppy has Jack Russell terrier in her?”

“Yes.”

“That dog was a Jack Russell. They really do look alike.”

“I’m sorry. I was really hopeful.”

“Me too. The trick now will be to stay hopeful. Tell me again how she looked?”

Chris smiled and gave me a kiss. “She was good. She looked good. She’s trying to find her way back.”

That’s what I needed to hear. Poppy was good. “Well, I better go help her then,” I said, rising.

I resumed my watch in Gordon’s backyard. Chris sat in his car, texting with the volunteers to coordinate where everyone was before he chose a spot to resume his own stakeout.

Only fifteen minutes passed before my phone rang.

“Hi, yeah, you need to come out front and bring your ID,” Chris said.

“My ID? Like my driver’s license? Okay. Why?”

“Somebody called the cops on us.”

Babs had mentioned the likelihood of police. I would have thought it would have happened during one of my late night or earlier morning sit-ins, but I suppose no one was up to see me then. No wonder crimes happen at night. “Oh. Great. Okay. I’m going to call Gordon too, so he can vouch for us.”

Gordon easily agreed to meet us out front. “I guess this means I have good neighbors. Looking out for the neighborhood, anyway.”

“True. I’m sure we do look sketchy.”

In just the time it took me to walk up the backyard hill and out the side gate, Gordon was out front and Chris had already explained our purpose to the two officers, one of whom was now holding a flyer.

Gordon vouched for us, but the police were no longer concerned. One of them had seen the posting on the Nextdoor site, and they’d both noticed all the flyers as they drove in to answer the call. Most important, they both loved dogs.

They left, wishing us good luck finding her, and keeping the flyer.

I looked at Gordon. “Since I’ve already disturbed you, could I possibly use your restroom?” The iced tea had gone right through me. This time I had no choice but to go into a stranger’s home to use their bathroom. Thank goodness modern suburban architecture always puts a half bathroom downstairs and usually not far from the entry.

When I came back out of the house, Mary and Liza and the Kataokas were all back, gathered near Chris. My phone rang before I got to their side of the street to see what was going on. It was Mike.

“Hey, Mike. You on your way?”

“My car broke down. I can’t get there with the trap,” Mike said. “My car won’t even start.”

I froze. Stunned. We were so close, and now, now something as mundane as car trouble is going to ruin everything?

We cannot catch a break.