Unsolved Mystery of the Canine Kind

It is with heavy heart (and most other body parts) that Val reports the loss of poor dumb Ann.

Ann, the mostly black German shepherd/Lab mix, was last seen Wednesday evening, when I fed her a handful of cat kibble and patted her sturdy, coarse-haired back. Juno DID run to meet me that evening, but did not stick around, heading instead for the vicinity of Hick over by the BARn, where he was burning something mysterious that might or might not have been the top branches of my driveway cedar tree.

Both dogs had run barking through the yard after The Pony, who trotted up the driveway towing the big green trash dumpster like a chariot. They raced back down, and when I was slow getting my stuff out of T-Hoe, Juno took off. Not Ann, though. She loves loved her some cat kibble, too.

Thursday morning, we did not see either dog. I heard them, though, at 5:00 a.m., through the wall of the master bathroom. It sounded like they were over by the BARn, or on the gravel drive by Hick's Shedville. They bark a lot in the mornings. I didn't think much of it. Nor the fact that they did not see us off on the way to school.

Thursday evening, we got home after Hick. He drove his Gator all the way to the garage to tell me that he couldn't find Ann. Juno was there, awaiting her kibble, but chased off after Hick on the Gator before she could eat it. Those dogs purely loved galloping in front of Hick. The minute he starts that engine, the woofing would start, and the scrabble of toenails on porch wood. So if Ann did not come running for the Gator parade, she was not around the house.

Hick drove all over the grounds looking for Ann. Down to the cabin. In all of his structures. Twice. Even under the porch. No Ann. We cannot imagine what might have happened to her. I find it quite a coincidence that the roofers worked one day, Wednesday, and then our dog disappeared on Thursday while we were at work.

Every day, Hick looked some more. No Ann. We have conjured up several possible scenarios.

Dognapped. Maybe one of the roofers thought Ann looked like a sturdy, reliable, fierce guard dog, and came out to take her on a day the roofers didn't work due to rain in the forecast.

Murderous Attack. This is Hick's thought. That maybe the Devil Poodle across the road, with its accomplice, that thick black-and-tan bobtailed dog, chewed up poor dumb Ann and killed her. Trouble is, no carcass. Even if she had a shred of life left, Ann would have crawled back into our yard or onto the porch. That's where I saw all the skirmishes over the summer. The neighbor dogs would come right up into our yard, and our dogs would turn and run for the porch while their enemies followed, until I hollered to run them off.

Careless Accident. Maybe poor dumb Ann was chasing a rabbit, and slipped into the sinkhole way down in the woods.

Devious Accident. Maybe a roofer ran over her, and carted off the evidence. The timing isn't right for this scenario, though, because they worked Wednesday, and Ann was still here that evening.

Hunting Accident. Ann had been dragging a deer leg home every couple of days, from the direction of our other 10 acres over by the BARn. I thought maybe she was scavenging a leg, and a poacher mistook her for a wild boar. Or maybe some kids sighting in their gun shot her for sport. Hick thought she might have tried feeding on some poacher's hanging deer. Still. There would have been evidence.

Old Dog's Time. Ann was 10 years old. I think our dog Grizzly made it to 13, the longest of all our pets. So far. We found him stretched out for a nap in the sun, never to awake, when we got home from our first day of school one August. And Tank the beagle was only 7 or 8 when he took the permanent nap, and was found by Hick under the porch. The thing is...we don't have Ann's remains to bury in the pet cemetery in the side yard.

Whatever happened to her, Ann had a good life here. We took her in and fed her more than regularly. She had the run of many acres, canine and feline companionship, limitless rabbits, countless squirrels, and a house of her own. No fences. No chain. A family who loved her. A Gator to chase.

Ann wasn't the smartest dog in our pack. But she will be missed.

When the weather warms up in the spring, Hick says I can get a puppy.