Devil Dog Hits The Rails
The call that started it all came from Gail while we were still in Alaska. She said a Lab climbed out
of the kennels, and no one could catch her. This was Rosie, a slender yellow female that had been delivered for training. (she was not from our breeding stock, but came from a field trial breeder). We immediately began our journey from Alaska to Charlotte to apprehend the poor little Lab. Just for kicks, I will chronicle what will now be forever known as “The Rosie Hunt”.
Day 1 – We arrive in Charlotte after a ten hour flight, where it is a balmy 101 degrees. We are wearing suits. The air conditioning in the new van is broken. On our way home, we receive a call that a motorist has spotted Rosie. We spend the next six hours in a corn field trying to coax Rosie into the van. She stays 50 feet away. Poor girl. I feel so bad for her. She must be terrified. Finally she tires of us and trots off into the woods. We go home and get to bed around 3:00 am.
Day 2 – 6:00 am – We receive a call from another motorist that has spotted our missing Lab signs. Rosie is back in the corn field. We spend the entire day and half the night trying to coax Rosie back to us. She must be starving. I leave some food for her, and we go home. I hope she will be O.K.
Day 3 - through day 6 – We have shut our business down in order to catch Rosie. This has become a full time operation. She is ranging over 25 square miles of woods, popping out in the backyards of homes to find food. Where she will show up is any body’s guess. We now have 126 signs posted along every road surrounding the woods. Rosie can’t make a move without someone spotting her and calling us. The boys and I drive to dozens of sightings, and get close to Rosie on many occasions. She is beginning to look thin. She must be starving. Come to think of it, so are we.
Day 7 – Rosie crosses the bridge into the next county, locking up a gasoline tanker and sending it sideways, blocking the bridge. We show up within minutes and spend hours placing new signs. Later the same day I receive a call from a man that has chased Rosie back into our county over a long railroad trestle. He is standing in the middle of the trestle, 75 feet above the river. As I am speaking to him, I hear a train whistle through his phone. He curses, and the line goes dead. Rosie is making life very interesting. I think of her constantly.
Day 8 – We now know Rosie is using the railroad tracks as her personal highway. At dusk I place JaxMax in the middle of the tracks, near the road. I take cover in the bushes, with my new tranquilizer gun and night vision goggles. After seven hours of feeding mosquitoes, my earpiece crackles with news that Rosie has been hit by a car. I run for my vehicle, and drive to the accident scene. It is not her, but a dead deer. Minutes later Tripper calls me. He is watching Rosie eat the bait at the place I have just vacated. By the time I get back, she is gone. It is 3:00 am. I can’t wait to shoot Rosie with my new tranquilizer gun.
Day 9 – There are now over 100 people searching for Rosie, but sightings are way down. The boys and I drive all day and night. We cut down a road and see an abandoned barn. Tripper pulls up quickly, shining his headlights into the open door. I can’t believe my eyes. Rosie is stretched out on a mattress, ears at full perk, as if to inquire who is disturbing her sleep. She bolts out the door, and I get a tranquilizer dart into her flank. I know she will be sleeping within minutes. After four hours and seven miles of walking, we begin to lose hope. She has awakened and is on the move. We are very, very deep in the forest, and it is raining hard. We follow Rosie’s tracks through the mud. She has doubled back so many times that we can no longer follow her. I go up on a hill for a better view. It is a fire ant hill, and they are looking for fresh meat. We get home at 5:00 am. I’m going to kill Rosie.
Day 10 – We get a call. Rosie is running down the side of Belmeade Road. I jump in the back of the pickup truck, and Tripper drives. We are getting updates from people as to her every move. We pull up beside her as she is at full run. She looks over at me, and I swear she is laughing. I put a tranquilizer dart into her, firing over the lane of opposite traffic. I jump from the truck and tear up a steep hill after her. She barrels through a thick field of briers and cactus, and her paws slip through my hands. She disappears into thin air. I spend several hours absorbing briers and cactus needles with my bare skin before calling in the four wheeler. Within minutes I flip the four wheeler in a hidden ravine, landing on whatever sharp objects remain in that field. I hope she starves.
Day 11 – through 15 – We chase the #&@*% dog all over creation, gun at the ready, responding to every call regardless of the hour. I’ve had to rent an SUV, as Rosie recognizes the sound of all our vehicles. One old man runs us off the road, and tells me he has been watching our strange behavior. He threatens to shoot us on site if he sees us in his neighborhood. His drunken neighbor offers to help him. Rosie decides to take refuge in the old man’s back yard.
Day 16 – My new tranquilizing darts arrive. They are loaded with a double dose of knock out medicine and a tracking device. The radio and antenna will track her up to a mile away after I shoot her. I’m in my bedroom, polishing my gun and dreaming of tracking the future sleeping Rosie. I haven’t shaved in days, and I’m talking to myself. My wife gives me a strange look. Rosie’s going down.
Day 17 – through 19 – Rosie is spotted in the bushes by a sign, a couple of miles from the farm. I rush over and sneak up on the bushes. I see her rump through the shrubbery, and take aim. As I click off the safety, Rosie moves. I remain still for about three minutes, waiting for her to show herself again. Finally I look down between my feet, where Rosie is looking straight up at me from the bushes. She is laughing, and bolts between my legs for the woods. I do not even have time to aim the gun. Rosie is having way too much fun. I wonder how her owner would feel if I traded in my tranquilizing gun for a cannon.
Day 20 – We receive seven calls from Rosie spotters, and find her all seven times. She is trying to sleep in back yards, but we keep her on the run. She stays about 70 feet away – 10 feet farther than the air powered rifle will reach. (I have ordered a more powerful powder fired tranquilizing gun, but it has not arrived). The seventh call is the magic one. Rosie has entered a fenced back yard, and a boy was able to slip a leash over her neck. I arrive to find Rosie sitting calmly, awaiting my arrival.
She doesn’t try to escape, but accepts my carrying her to the truck in royal style. I’m so disappointed that I don’t get to shoot her. $6,500 dollars and three weeks of around the clock chasing, and I have her in my arms. I can’t believe it. I call the boys and report the news. Their joyful screams are heard even by Rosie, who twists her head sideways at the strange noise coming from the cell phone.
Rosie is covered in ant bites, fleas, and ticks. I take her home and put her in the tub. She stands quietly and accepts my attention. Later that night, I take her in the food barn to spend some time with her. Rosie wags her tail, crawls into my lap, flips upside down and starts snoring. She has totally forgiven the person that put three tranquilizer darts into her and chased her all over the county. I realize that we did not catch her. She simply decided she was ready to be captured, and turned herself in. I’m still in disbelief – she’s really here with me, and the chase is over. What a sweet, loving Lab. I sleep with her the rest of the night. I’ll shoot her later.
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