Biggie

by Ellen Miles

  “I—I’m sorry,” Lizzie felt terrible. “I don’t usually bring our foster dogs along, but I thought—um—” she peered around Mrs. Jackson. Usually Domino would have been right at her owner’s heels, excited to see who was at the door. “Where’s Domino?”

  Mrs. Jackson sighed as she opened the door and ushered Lizzie and Biggie inside. Now Lizzie could see that Mrs. Jackson’s eyes were red and puffy. Her hair was mussed and she looked exhausted. “For a second I thought you might know. I thought you might have found him, and brought him home to us,” she said. She plopped down on the couch and slumped over, looking as if she was going to cry. “Oh, Lizzie,” she said. “Our little Domino is lost.”

  Lizzie gasped. “Oh, no!” she said. “Where? When? How long has he been gone?”

  Mr. Jackson had come into the room by then. He sat down next to his wife, putting his arm around her. He looked exhausted, too.

  Lizzie was shocked. She had never seen the Jacksons like this before. They were always so energetic, so upbeat.

  Mr. Jackson heaved a huge sigh. “It’s my fault,” he said. “I remember noticing that his collar was loose, but I forgot to tighten it before we headed out on a hike yesterday after work. He must have seen a squirrel or something: he got so excited. He was jumping up and down and barking and pulling on the leash. Somehow he managed to slip out of his collar and he took off after whatever it was, straight into the underbrush. I called him and called, but—he just disappeared so quickly.” Mr. Jackson’s voice sounded thick, and Lizzie saw that his eyes were shiny with tears. “I never thought our little guy would take off like that,” he finished. He shook his head.

  “We were up on the Skyline Trail,” said Mrs. Jackson. “You know, the one with the good views? Domino loves that trail. It’s his favorite.” She wiped her eyes, sniffing.

  “We’ve hiked there so many times,” said Mr. Jackson. It was like they had to tell it over and over again. Lizzie had the feeling they’d already told each other the whole story many times. “But he saw a squirrel and he was gone like that”—he snapped his fingers—“before I could even call his name. I was sure he would circle back in a few minutes, or that we’d find him waiting at the car—but there was no sign of him. We hiked up and down the trail all morning, calling his name. Nothing. He wasn’t anywhere on the trail, he wasn’t in the parking area, he just”—he snapped his fingers again—“disappeared.”

  Lizzie felt tears spring to her eyes, thinking about how terrible she would feel if Buddy vanished like that. But she just nodded, trying not to make things any worse by breaking down and crying. “And now he’s been out there all night?” she asked.

  Mr. Jackson put his head in his hands. “I went back out with my headlamp and ran the whole trail at midnight, calling his name. Nothing. Same thing this morning. Where could he have gone?”

  Lizzie gripped the arms of her chair. She didn’t even want to think about all the things that could happen to a little dog—even one as spunky as Domino—out in the wild.

  “We don’t know what to do next,” said Mrs. Jackson, shaking her head. “We’re just—so tired and sad. The twins are upset, too. They’re only babies, but they know something isn’t right. They’re napping now. We’re all exhausted.”

  Lizzie nodded, her thoughts in a whirl. She could tell that the Jacksons were too overwhelmed to be able to think straight. Her first thought was to run home and ask Mom what to do, or call her aunt Amanda, who knew everything about dogs. She needed a grown-up’s help—didn’t she?

  Then Lizzie took a deep breath and tried to focus. She had learned a lot about finding lost dogs when one of her family’s foster puppies, a dachshund named Ziggy, had run away. There were things you could do—things besides just looking for the dog yourself. Lots of people panicked when their dog was lost, and just kept searching and searching, without stopping to think.

  “The important thing is to spread the word,” she told the Jacksons. “You’re only two people. But there are plenty of others who will want to help if they know Domino is missing. The more people out there looking, the better our chances are of finding him. And we need to get everybody looking soon—the sooner the better.”

  Mr. Jackson looked at Lizzie, his brow furrowed. He nodded. “I can see how that would make sense,” he said.

  Lizzie nodded. “And you have to stay hopeful. Lots of lost dogs are found, or turn up on their own.”

  “Really?” asked Mrs. Jackson. She sat up straighter.

  “Absolutely,” said Lizzie, feeling more confident by the minute. They could do this. They could find Domino. She felt it in her bones.

  “There’s a lot to do,” Lizzie went on, holding up a hand to tick things off on her fingers. It was all coming back to her now. “The first thing is to make a poster to hang up in as many places as we can. You should spread the word on social media, and there are some phone calls to make, to shelters and pet stores and the police. And of course we’ll keep looking for Domino ourselves.”

  Mrs. Jackson slumped back in her seat. Lizzie understood. She knew it all sounded like a lot.

  “My friends and I can help,” she promised. “And I’ll talk to my aunt and to Ms. Dobbins, too. They may have some ideas.”

  Lizzie’s aunt Amanda ran a doggy day care, and she helped with things like this all of the time. And Ms. Dobbins was the director of Caring Paws, the animal shelter where Lizzie volunteered every week. The Jacksons knew Ms. Dobbins because they had adopted Domino from her shelter.

  Mrs. Jackson sniffled, then reached for a tissue and blew her nose. “Thank you, Lizzie. I know you love Domino, too.”

  Just then, Biggie let out a little whine. “Oh, Biggie!” said Lizzie. She had almost forgotten he was there! What a good boy he was. He seemed to understand that something important was happening. Ever since they’d all sat down, he had been lying patiently at Lizzie’s feet. Now he stood up, shook himself, and put a paw on her leg.

  Is everything okay?

  “This is Biggie, our new foster pup,” Lizzie told Mr. and Mrs. Jackson, as she pulled the scruffy pup onto her lap. “I hope it’s okay that I brought him.”

  Mrs. Jackson had pulled a pad of paper and a pen out of a drawer in the coffee table. She hunched over it, scribbling things down, making a list. She waved a hand, barely glancing at Biggie.

  “It’s fine,” said Mr. Jackson, as he put his hands on his knees and stood up.

  Lizzie could see that the Jacksons were ready to get to work. So was she. “Can you find me a recent picture of Domino?” she asked. “Let’s get going on that poster.”

  “There we go,” Lizzie said to Biggie, as she stepped back from a telephone pole. She had to admit that the poster looked really good. She had taken a bunch of them with her when she left the Jacksons and was putting a few up on her way home for dinner. Mrs. Jackson had run off about twenty-five posters on her home printer, for starters.

  LOST DOG, the poster said at the top, in very big letters. Lizzie and Mr. Jackson had looked up “lost dog poster” online and had found a website that had listed all the things the poster should include. First was that big, eye-catching headline. Then, underneath, in smaller type, it said, HAVE YOU SEEN DOMINO?

  Beneath the words was a picture—sharp, and in color—of a black-and-white dog with a small, square black patch near his tail—a patch the exact size and shape of a domino. In the picture, Domino stood on a flat rock on the edge of a glassy, still lake ringed by tall pine trees. The picture had caught him perfectly: in it he held his nose up to sniff the wind, while his half-flopped ears fluttered in the breeze. His eyes were closed in pure happiness, and he almost seemed to have a smile on his face.

  Domino is a male Jack Russell terrier, seven years old, the text said beneath the picture. The website had said to make sure to list all of that information. He ran off during a hike on the Skyline Drive on September 21, at about 5:30 p.m. Lizzie felt her heart flip once again when she read those words. “I just still can’t believe
he’s missing,” she said to Biggie now, as they headed to the next telephone pole.

  The poster listed a phone number for the Jacksons. Call anytime! it said. REWARD! The website had said to mention a reward, but without saying how much.

  Finally, in big letters across the bottom, it said DO NOT CHASE. Lizzie knew that it was never a good idea to chase a loose dog. Many dogs thought it was a game. Others might be frightened. Either way, chasing a dog usually just made it run away from you.

  First thing tomorrow, Mrs. Jackson was going to have 500 more copies made so they could stick them up all over. Mr. Jackson was also going to paint a big version of the sign on plywood, and set it up near the parking area at the Skyline Trail. Both ideas were also suggested by the website.

  Lizzie felt almost as exhausted as the Jacksons by the time she got home. She couldn’t believe that Mr. Jackson was planning to hike the trail one more time before it got totally dark. They had read that the best time to look for a runaway dog was at dusk and dawn, since he would likely be most active then. “It’s not like I can eat or sleep anyway,” said Mr. Jackson. “I might as well be out there looking for our little guy.”

  * * *

  The next morning, Lizzie woke to Biggie standing over her, licking her face.

  Come on! Get up! We have a lot to do!

  Lizzie groaned and pushed him away. “Forget it, Biggie. It’s Saturday!” She wanted to sleep a little more. Then she remembered. Domino was missing. Maria was coming over early so they could search some more and put up posters. She sat straight up in bed, then threw off the covers and raced downstairs to find her mom. “Any news?” she asked, as she ran into the kitchen.

  Her mom was spooning ground coffee into the coffee maker and chatting with Maria, who was already there. “Good morning to you, too,” she said. Then she gave Lizzie a hug. “No messages. I’m sorry.”

  The Jacksons had promised to let Lizzie know the minute they heard anything.

  Lizzie sighed.

  “I know,” said her mom, squeezing her close again. “I really feel bad for the Jacksons. I’m glad it’s a weekend so we can do everything we can to help today. First, though, I think you’d better let Biggie and Buddy out to play.”

  “Let’s get these little guys outside,” Maria said.

  After watching Buddy and Biggie run around, Lizzie and Maria walked through the neighborhood, putting up signs everywhere. They went downtown, too, and asked all the shopkeepers to put signs in their windows. Briana and Daphne put up posters, too.

  Later on, Mom was going to take Lizzie to Caring Paws. Saturday was Lizzie’s usual volunteer day anyway, and she wanted to talk to Ms. Dobbins about any other things they could do to help find Domino. Plus, she planned to personally check out every single dog in the shelter. What if someone had brought Domino there? It could be busy at the shelter, and one of the volunteers might have missed hearing about the lost pup.

  When Lizzie left them the night before, the Jacksons had been much less gloomy and much more determined to do everything they could to find Domino. “Thanks for getting us on the right track. I just don’t know what I’d do without Domino,” Mrs. Jackson had said right before Lizzie had left. “The house feels so empty without him. He’s a little dog, but he has a big presence.”

  Lizzie looked at Biggie walking along beside her. She had brought him along while they put up posters. “Domino is just like you,” she said. “He’s a big dog in a little dog’s body.”

  Biggie wagged his tail and gave her a doggy grin as he strutted along.

  That’s me! Don’t forget, I’m the boss around here.

  Lizzie and Maria were on Maple Street, stapling up posters, when they heard a car horn beeping behind them. It was Mom. She pulled over and hopped out of the car. “Mrs. Jackson just texted me,” she told the girls. “They had a call from someone who might have seen Domino just now, up on the Skyline Trail.”

  “What are we waiting for?” Lizzie asked. She scooped Biggie into her arms and headed for the car. “Let’s go.”

  “Who called?” Lizzie asked, as she fastened her seat belt and pulled Biggie onto her lap. “What did they say? Where exactly on the trail did they see Domino? Are the Jacksons already at the trail?”

  Mom held up a hand. “Hold on there, buckaroo. That’s a lot of questions all at once, and to tell you the truth, I have no answers. All I know is what I told you: somebody texted Mrs. Jackson that they saw Domino on the trail. That’s all. We’ll find out more when we get there.”

  Lizzie sat back and let out a breath.

  Maria reached over to take her hand. “We’ll find him,” she said. “Don’t worry.”

  Lizzie shook her head. “You don’t know that,” she said. Even though she was doing her best to be optimistic, Lizzie did worry. Domino was such a little guy. What if a coyote had grabbed him, or what if he was sick or injured? Domino was also very cute, the kind of dog that everyone fell in love with at first sight. What if someone had dognapped him and had already driven miles and miles away? What if he had run out into the road and—

  Lizzie put her face in her hands. She knew it didn’t do any good to think these kind of thoughts, but it was hard to keep them out of her head. The night before she had tossed and turned in bed for a long time, thinking about Domino out there in the world, all by himself.

  Maria was right. They would find him. They absolutely had to find him. And it was a very good sign that someone might have spotted him. Lizzie shook herself and sat up straight. She had to stay positive! She hugged Biggie closer and kissed the top of his head. His fur was so wiry that it tickled her nose until she had to sneeze. The sneeze made her giggle and hug Biggie again. He licked her cheek and wagged his funny little feathery tail.

  Hang in there. Everything’s going to be okay. Biggie’s here!

  Lizzie laughed. She could tell that Biggie wanted to help. He sensed that she was upset, and he’d found a way to cheer her up—so he already had helped. “You’re right,” she told Maria, reaching out to squeeze her friend’s hand. “We’ll find Domino. Let’s stay positive. After all, somebody just spotted him, right?”

  When Mom pulled into the parking lot at the start of the Skyline Trail, Lizzie saw a small crowd of people milling around near a black SUV. That was the Jacksons’ car! Lizzie jumped out, still carrying Biggie in her arms, as soon as Mom pulled to a stop. She charged toward the group and saw Mr. Jackson, dressed in his usual sporty clothes, standing with his hands on his hips as he spoke to the people who had come to help. It seemed that they had all seen flyers and wanted to help find Domino.

  “I can’t thank you all enough for coming out,” he said. “The more eyes we have out there the better.” He handed out flyers to everyone. “I know most of you have seen this—that’s why you’re here—but I figured you might as well have one with you. We just had news that Domino—or a dog that looks a lot like him—was just spotted about a mile up the trail, near the second waterfall.”

  Somebody cheered. “Thanks,” said Mr. Jackson. “It makes me happy, too. But we still have to find Domino. Does everyone have some treats to offer him, if you see him?”

  A few people shook their heads. Lizzie came up next to Mr. Jackson. “I have plenty,” she said, holding up a bag she’d pulled out of her jacket pocket. She put Biggie down on the ground, then gave out handfuls of treats to everyone who needed them.

  “The biggest thing is, don’t chase him,” Mr. Jackson went on. “If anybody runs toward him, he’ll probably just get spooked and take off deeper into the woods. Domino is hard to catch on the best days, and after spending a night out here on his own, he’s probably pretty freaked out.”

  “Should we call his name while we hike?” a woman in a red knit hat asked.

  Mr. Jackson looked blank for a moment. He glanced down at Lizzie, eyebrows raised. Lizzie was ready. She had been researching everything she could about finding lost dogs. “Some people say yes,” she told the woman. “Others say no, that even aft
er one night in the woods, some dogs get a little wild and kind of forget who they are. But I don’t think it can hurt. Just call in a gentle, friendly voice so you don’t scare him.”

  “I brought a squeaky toy that my dog loves,” said a man who seemed to know Mr. Jackson. He held up a pink unicorn and gave it a squeeze.

  “Great idea!” said Lizzie. “It might grab Domino’s attention.”

  It had certainly grabbed Biggie’s. He tugged his leash out of Lizzie’s hands and ran toward the man with the toy.

  Gimme that! I’ll take care of it. That’s my department.

  “Biggie, no!” said Lizzie, grabbing the leash that was trailing behind him along the ground. She looked at Mr. Jackson and shrugged. “Maybe I shouldn’t have brought him, but we rushed right over.”

  “It’s fine,” said Mr. Jackson. Again, he seemed to ignore Biggie. He clapped his hands. “Okay, let’s head out,” he said. “You all have my cell phone number—it’s on the poster. Please call if you see or hear anything at all.”

  Lizzie and Biggie headed up the trail with Mr. Jackson, while Mom and Maria followed behind. At first, Lizzie jogged to keep up with Mr. Jackson’s long, fast stride. Finally, out of breath, she had to slow down. She watched as he disappeared up the trail. That man was focused on one thing and one thing only: finding Domino.

  “Walk with us, Lizzie,” said Mom, putting an arm around her.

  “Yeah, walk with us, Biggie,” said Maria, reaching down to give his scruffy head a pat. “Maybe Biggie can help find Domino. He’s a dog, right? With a dog sense of smell?”

  Lizzie knew what Maria was talking about. They’d both learned that dogs have a sense of smell that is about 10,000 times better than a human’s. Lizzie had even read that sometimes bloodhounds were used to find lost dogs. If anybody could sniff out Domino, it would be another dog. “Right,” said Lizzie. “C’mon, Biggie, let’s find Domino. I know you guys would love each other.”