Our Dog’s Tale

If you follow me on social media, you know our weekend was one filled with quite an adventure, revolving around our dog Roscoe. I’ve been asked several times what happened, and honestly, the story is unbelievable and also quite serendipitous.

It all started Friday night. My wife and I hosted a tailgate party ahead of the Carterville High School football game, as we live next to the school, and some of our friends had plans to go to the game. A longstanding tradition in Carterville is firing a cannon at the start of the game and whenever the Lions score a touchdown.

In the past, this action has gone mostly unnoticed by our dogs. However, as Roscoe has gotten older, his anxiety has increased, especially when it storms. Friday night, he was at a different level, and when I let him out to go to the bathroom, he bolted from our yard when I had turned my back. I went to the side yard to find him, and our neighbors said he had just darted past them moments earlier.

I got in my car and drove around the neighborhood and down the main street our subdivision sits on. I had no luck. I thought that going on foot and through the yards might help my efforts. I asked the walkers participating in our town’s annual 5K if they’d seen him to no avail. I had a shimmer of hope when a police officer said he’s seen Roscoe run through the intersection.

That’s when I turned to social media, asking if anyone had seen our boy. Almost immediately, I received reports that he was at the Family Dollar store, located about two and a half miles from our house. I drove there and got out walking behind the store, where I heard dogs barking. I saw a black dog in the shadows (it was after 8:30 p.m. by this point and dark), but when the dog walked forward, I quickly noted it wasn’t Roscoe, and this guy didn’t look happy.

I drove around the area for nearly an hour with no luck and no further sightings. Then around 10:30 p.m. I got a text from a friend who had heard on the police scanner that Roscoe was near the Blue Herron Campground off of Old Route 13 (which means he’d crossed the four lanes of Route 13 to get there). My wife joined me as we sped to the scene, but again, our luck had run out, and there was no sight of our boy.

One of my Facebook friends called me via messenger at 11:45 p.m., saying she too had seen him near the campground. We drove back to the area and saw the Facebook friend who had been driving around looking for Roscoe. She said he’d headed toward a nearby subdivision, so we drove around there, but again, no sight of him.

Discouraged, we headed home and got into bed around 12:45 a.m. I left the porch light on, hoping he’d make his way back home and bark to wake us up. I woke up several times through the night, only to be dejected after checking the front porch. My wife got up early and drove back to the campground and the nearby subdivisions, to no avail. She came back home to get me, and again we made our way with our granddog in tow, hoping the scent or sight of Bud might help lure Roscoe. I walked a trail to an open field where all I found was a deer.

In the meantime, I noticed I had a voicemail from a Carterville police officer, who reported seeing Roscoe at 3:30 a.m. on Shawnee Hills Road, not too far from our house. Hours had passed, but we held out hope that he was there; however, we found ourselves disappointed again.

My wife had started a conversation with a woman who humanely traps lost dogs and offers advice to pet owners. We followed her tips and printed flyers, hanging them with a couple of miles of all the reported sightings. We’d also received a tip on Facebook that he was seen in Carbondale at the Sonic. I was skeptical, but we drove there, too, but again, no luck.

We continued on with our day and headed to Cobden for a birthday party for my wife’s boss. Within minutes of sitting down at the table, my wife mentioned that Roscoe was lost, and one of her coworkers asked what Roscoe looked like. My wife described him, and this man pulled out his phone to show a picture from the Ring doorbell’s lost pet alert system (I’m not sure of the technical name). It was Roscoe! We ran to the car and sped to the area of Chataqua Road searching. He wasn’t near the area where he’d been seen, and we quickly started losing hope.

I drove down a nearby street and asked a family outside their home if they’d seen our dog. The man said yes. Ten minutes earlier, Roscoe was walking near Saluki Farms, which wasn’t too far from where we were. With our hope renewed, we raced to the area in question, but again, no dog.

I continued driving down the road, hoping Roscoe wasn’t going off the main path. We spotted a man on a bicycle at the end of that road. Again, we asked if he’d seen Roscoe, and he pointed to the house nearby and said he’s over there. I can’t tell you how excited we were as my wife headed up the hill behind the house and walked through a thicket of vegetation.

Less than 30 seconds into my search, I spotted Roscoe about 50 feet away. We locked eyes, and he seemed hesitant. He was still in flight mode, we believe, and I didn’t want to do anything to startle him. So, following the previously given advice, I dropped down low and just made a noise with my mouth. I didn’t speak. Roscoe slowly moved toward me and stopped after five or six steps. I quickly dialed my wife on my phone and whispered that I’d found him, but didn’t have him yet. Then I gently said, “It’s okay, Roscoe,” and he sped up, coming to me. Just as I reached for his collar, he pulled back, but there was no way I was going to lose him again. I grabbed hold of his collar and attached the leash.

Words cannot explain the level of relief I felt in that moment. My wife met us at the bottom of the hill for a tearful reunion. We fed him treats and water, then got back in the car. I opened my map app to see how far we were from home, which turned out to be 13 miles.

We are grateful to everyone who shared our missing posts, helped with the search, and offered advice. Roscoe has been home more than 24 hours now. He’s still sore and tired, but he’ll be okay. Boy, do I wish he could tell us his story…