| This is probably the most personal writeup I've ever written, but I just had to let out some of the emotions boiling in my head to the point of suffocation.
When my family moved to a more rustic surroundings, half a year ago, we decided to take on a dog as well. Up to that point we lived on the fourth floor of a midtown building, and didn't think it was a good way to raise a dog. My sister and father were in favour of taking a Boxer, a Doberman or a German Shepherd, I was in favour of a Golden Retriever or a Cocker Spaniel, my mother agreed with me. So finally we took on a Golden Retriever. He was the most beautiful and cutest puppy imaginable, with large dark eyes, and smooth rich beige-offwhite-white fur. We had a discussion as to his name, and the name 'Keeper' was selected (against my opinion). When we first brought him home he was so scared he didn't eat for the first two days, it took some time (and much worrying) before we found out he simply didn't like the food he was getting, preffering fasting to having to eat it.
Keeper was soon discovered to be a friendly, loving, confident, cheerful and trusting puppy. Not one person could remain indifferent to him, even dog haters melted at his sight. He was extremely clever as well. He learned not to "do his stuff" around the house in three or four days. At 3 months old he managed to use strategically placed objects to open unlocked doors (even though he knew he wasn't supposed to). When he was ill and ther vet perscribed chicken soup and rice, he demanded more of the delicacy, by taking his plate in his mouth, marching with it to the living room, placing it at my mother's feet and sitting down watching her with a "look-at-poor-little-me" expression on his face. We also found out he had a sesitive stomach, and could get food poisoning rather easily.
My parents didn't want to leave him alone at home, and since my sister's in the army, I'm in the university and they own their workplace, they took him with them to their shop every day. Keeper was six months old on December 22nd. We had a party, but he ate his own birthday hat...
On Wednseday, my parents took him, as usual, to their workplace (which is located on the industial zone of a close by town), and around 15:30 my dad took him out for a walk. When they returned Keeper didn't want to come inside, and my mom told my dad to let him be, he'd come in when he felt like it. After 10 minutes or so, when he didn't come in they went out to fetch him, but he was nowhere to be seen. My parents went on to look for him until 22:00 that day, but couldn't find him. Him being a Golden Retriever we know he was probably stolen.
My mother called all the veterinarians in all nearby towns, describing him, his microchip number and the tatto number in his ear. Yesterday we covered the entire region with signs, promising a reward for anyone who will find him. We were told not to be too hopeful.
We're pretty much down at all times. I keep bursting into tears ever so often. My dad, the big macho man, does the same. My mother snaps at anything and anyone. My sister is being very silent. I can't seem to be able to sleep for more than half an hour streight. I'm having awful nightmares about him. My eyes are leaking right now... (c:
I've been swearing at the person who stole my dog for the last days, wishing him worse things then I ever wished anyone in my life. I even wished, I'm ashamed to say, for Keeper to start throwing up so that he'll be taken to the vet and be identified.
Yesterday when I was hanging signs near the industrial zone, a woman approached me and said she's seen a dog similar to the one in the picture in the sign, near the supermarket nearby. I asked her several questions and it indeed could have been Keeper. This dog, however, was without a leash or collar, while Keeper had his on at the time of his diappearance, what does that mean? Did Keeper get himself out of them? It's possible, but unlikely. Did Keeper escape the person who stole him? I don't know. We searched the region some more, but found nothing.
Late at night, my sister returned home, after another excursion to look for him, and said she saw a dead white dog on a road near that area, but was too afraid to look carefully. I told har to take me there so that I'd be able to see, the uncertainty was driving me insane. When we got to that place, my heart pounding like mad all the way there, we saw that the dog wasn't even white.
I don't know what to think. I'd rather him be stolen than wandering the streets, cold and hungry and alone. He's too spoiled to make it for long. We know we'll probably never see him again, and if we will, it's going to be in so long a time, we probably won't even recognize him (He's only 6 months old now...)
But as Theognis said: "There is no benevolent deity for Mortal Man save Hope alone"...
13.2.00
I'm happy to tell you all that My dog is back! | 
