Biggie

by Ellen Miles

  As if he understood, Biggie put his nose to the ground and began to zig and zag his way up the trail.

  I’ll do my best! Unless I get distracted by a—

  Just then a squirrel ran across the trail up ahead, and Biggie nearly pulled Lizzie’s arm off as he tried to charge after it. Maybe using a dog to find a dog wasn’t the best idea after all.

  Hours later, as the afternoon began to grow late and the sky turned dusky, Lizzie and Maria stood in the parking lot, back at the beginning of the trail. Mom and a very dejected-looking Mr. Jackson were talking with another woman, over by the Petersons’ car.

  “I can’t believe we didn’t see or hear a thing,” Lizzie said. They had hiked and hiked, all the way up the steep trail to the top of Eastman Mountain, where there was a broad view of the farmland, rivers, and valleys below. The whole way up and back Lizzie had kept her eyes peeled, swinging her gaze from side to side, peering deep into the tangled woods. She had totally expected to glimpse a flash of black and white, or hear snuffling or whining. “I just know he’s somewhere out here.”

  Her voice was raspy from calling Domino’s name, over and over. Her legs were tired, and she was hungry and thirsty. She felt exhausted, and sad. They had looked so hard and hiked so far, all for nothing. Domino was nowhere to be seen.

  Biggie pawed her leg, and when she looked down at him, he stared back up at her, cocking his head and seeming to raise his bushy eyebrows.

  What about me? I did my best!

  “Oh, you were a big help, Biggie,” said Lizzie, crouching down to pet him. “I know you tried. You sniffed every rock and every bush and every tree and every root and—” She broke off and scratched him between the ears, feeling as if she might cry. Night was falling, and Domino, poor little Domino, was still out there somewhere. There was nobody to talk to him, nobody to pet him, nobody to scratch him between the ears. Instead there was only cold, and darkness, and maybe even scary wild animals like coyotes or bears.

  Lizzie stood up and peered into the woods one more time. Maybe they should do the whole hike over again, before it got completely dark. Most of the other searchers had already gone home, but Lizzie—as tired as she felt—wasn’t ready to give up. She couldn’t bear to think of the frightened little dog out here all by himself.

  “We’ll find him,” Maria said. But she didn’t sound a hundred percent sure. In fact, Lizzie could tell that her friend was feeling almost as hopeless as she was. “We can put up more signs,” Maria went on. “Maybe make some more phone calls.” But she didn’t sound excited about it. She sounded as if she felt as exhausted and sad as Lizzie.

  Then Mr. Jackson trotted over. “New plan,” he said. He seemed energized. “That lady”—he pointed at the woman he and Mom had been talking to—“had some good ideas. She’s been through it, lost her dog here last year.” He nodded. “And guess what? She found him.”

  “She did?” Lizzie asked, feeling a flicker of hope in her chest. “Here?”

  Mr. Jackson nodded. “She went out to the spot on the trail where she’d last seen him and set up a little bed for him, in a dog crate with the door propped open. She put one of her sweatshirts in it, something that smelled like her, and a toy that he always loved. And a pile of his favorite treats.”

  Lizzie was nodding. “That makes sense,” she said. She could picture it. Domino couldn’t help but be attracted to a setup like that. Any dog would want to check it out. “But how did she know if the dog came by? If the treats were gone they could have just been eaten by another animal.”

  Mr. Jackson nodded. “Right. But she put a trail cam up, too,” said Mr. Jackson.

  “A trail cam?” Lizzie asked.

  “It’s a camera you mount on a tree,” Mr. Jackson explained. “It goes off automatically when something moves nearby, even at night. Then it makes a movie of whatever’s moving. If it’s at night, it takes the movie using special infrared technology.”

  “Wow,” said Maria. “And she saw her dog on the camera?”

  “Yes!” Mr. Jackson was practically dancing with excitement. “He came back every few hours to check on the spot, and to eat treats, so she knew he was alive. She could never get there in time to catch him. But finally, after three days, he curled up on the bed and she found him there, fast asleep.”

  Lizzie couldn’t help grinning. How could she have forgotten the most important thing about looking for a lost dog? You had to stay positive. Optimistic. Exactly the way Mr. Jackson seemed after talking to the woman. “It sounds like a fantastic idea,” she said. Now she felt energized, too. “Maybe we can bring all that stuff up here tomorrow.”

  Mr. Jackson raised his eyebrows. “Tomorrow?” He shook his head. “I’m off to buy a camera right now,” he said. “Then I’m heading home to pick up all the other stuff: sweatshirts and a bed and everything. Then I’m coming right back up here to set it all up. I’m not going to wait another minute.”

  Biggie seemed to sense the excitement. He put his paws up on Mr. Jackson’s leg and gave him a doggy grin, wagging his tail.

  Now you’re talking!

  This time, Mr. Jackson didn’t ignore Biggie. He smiled down at the scruffy pup and knelt to give him some pets. “That’s right, pal,” he said. “We’re gonna find my best friend. We’re gonna find Domino.”

  “Phew!” said Mom, as she, Lizzie, and Maria climbed into her car. “That was quite the hike! I’m ready to collapse on the couch for a while; how about you two?”

  Lizzie met her mom’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Um,” she said. “Can you drop us at Caring Paws? I want to talk to Ms. Dobbins to see if she has any other suggestions about finding a lost dog. She was really nice about me not coming in for my regular volunteer shift today, but Maria and I still want to at least go visit the dogs and make sure Domino isn’t there.”

  Mom raised her eyebrows. “What about Biggie?” she asked.

  “He just had that big hike,” said Lizzie. “Even for our little tough guy, that’s plenty. He’s all tuckered out.” She hugged Biggie close and giggled when his wiry eyebrows tickled her cheek. Biggie never failed to make her laugh. He really had a talent for cheering people up. Biggie snuffled Lizzie’s neck, then suddenly licked it, making her giggle again. “Biggie!” she said. He gazed up at her, wagging his little tail. His eyebrows twitched as he cocked his head and stuck out his chest.

  Yes? That’s my name, and everybody knows it. I’m also known as Mr. Big, Biggie McBig, Biggles, Bigglesworth, Biggles McGiggles, and a few dozen other names.

  Maria cracked up. “He sure does think he’s the cat’s pajamas, as my dad would say.”

  “Or in this case, the dog’s pajamas,” agreed Mom, from the front seat. She pulled into the parking lot at Caring Paws and turned around to look at Lizzie. “I’m coming back for you two in an hour,” she said. “You need to be at home for supper and some downtime. It’s been a long day.”

  “Perfect,” said Lizzie, as she and Maria climbed out of the car.

  Ms. Dobbins greeted them at the door of the shelter. “Any luck?” she asked. Earlier Lizzie had used Mom’s phone to call and tell Ms. Dobbins about the hiker who’d reported seeing Domino.

  Lizzie shook her head. “No, but we’re staying positive. Mr. Jackson is on his way to buy a trail camera, and he’ll set it up tonight.”

  “They’re also going to put out a crate for Domino to go into, with some of his food and treats and toys and a sweatshirt that Mr. or Mrs. Jackson wore,” added Maria.

  Ms. Dobbins agreed. “Perfect. I was about to suggest those things. And have they checked the local lost dogs page online?”

  “I think so,” said Lizzie. “I’ll ask them later. Any other ideas?”

  Ms. Dobbins thought for a second. “Next time you’re out looking for Domino, carry your treats in a crinkly bag, like a foil potato-chip bag. Lots of dogs know what that sound means, and find it irresistible.” She smiled.

  “Speaking of dogs,” said Lizzie, “can we go visit everybody?
I just want to be sure that Domino’s not here.”

  “Good idea,” said Ms. Dobbins. “We’ve been very busy here, and things can get missed. I’ll come with you.”

  She led the way to the dog kennels. Lizzie and Maria walked up and down the rows. “Hi, Petey,” said Lizzie, as she passed a hound mix on her right. On the left were an older black Lab and a cute little pug mix. “Hey, Junior. Hello there, Sadie.”

  All the dogs were happy to see Lizzie. Even the shyest ones thumped their tails when she slipped them treats. “Sorry I didn’t get to walk all of you today,” Lizzie said. “All you good, good dogs.” She stopped at a pit bull named Buster’s cage and gave him a special scratch beneath his right ear when he pressed up against the fencing. “Yes, you, too, Buster,” she said. “You’re a good dog, too. Yes you are.”

  Lizzie was happy to see each of the dogs. But she did not see Domino.

  “Tomorrow I’ll bring you a new stack of flyers for the front desk,” Lizzie told Ms. Dobbins, as she and Maria headed out to the parking lot to meet Mom. “It looks like the ones I gave you are almost gone already.”

  “Lots of people care about lost dogs,” said Ms. Dobbins. “They really want to help.”

  * * *

  After dinner that night, Mrs. Jackson called to ask if Lizzie could come over to talk about plans for the next day. “We have a whole list of people who want us to call or email them if we’re going to do another search,” said Mrs. Jackson. “Plus, Mr. Jackson wants to tell you about setting up the trail camera.” She paused and cleared her throat. “And—could you bring that cute little Biggie with you? I think I’m overdue for some dog cuddles.”

  “What about your downtime?” Mom asked when Lizzie asked for a ride to the Jacksons’ house.

  “I can’t rest, anyway,” Lizzie told her. “Not while Domino is still out there somewhere, lost and afraid.”

  Mom nodded and reached for her car keys. “That’s my Lizzie,” she said with a sigh. “How about if I come in with you?” she asked. “We’ll just stay for a few minutes. I’m sure the Jacksons are tired, too.”

  They might have been tired, but they didn’t show it. Mr. Jackson paced excitedly up and down the living room as he told them how and where he had set up the crate and trail cam. “It’s near where he ran off, next to this beautiful big boulder that he used to like to scramble on top of.”

  Mrs. Jackson had pulled Biggie into her arms as soon as he’d sauntered into the house. Now she sat holding him on her lap, stroking his scraggly fur as she told Lizzie and her mom about the spreadsheet she was making of people who wanted to help. “I’ve got their phone numbers in there, and the times they’re available—” She broke off into a giggle as Biggie’s eyebrows tickled her neck. She looked down at him fondly. “You’re not Domino,” she told him. “But I have to admit that you’re a real cutie, and a character to boot.”

  That’s me!

  “Hey, would you like to keep him overnight?” Lizzie asked. Maybe Biggie would be a comfort to the Jacksons. Lizzie had heard about cat cafés, where people who didn’t own kitties but loved them could go to sip coffee with a warm cat on their laps. Why couldn’t she lend out Biggie?

  Mrs. Jackson looked tempted. So did Mr. Jackson—for a moment. Then he shook his head. “Thanks, but we really need to focus all our energy on Domino,” he said. Still, he did come over to sit next to his wife and give Biggie a belly rub. Lizzie could tell that having a dog nearby did cheer the Jacksons up a little.

  By the time they left, Lizzie and her mom were both energized and ready for another day of searching—after a good rest. The Jacksons were definitely feeling optimistic, and Lizzie was, too. She couldn’t wait to see what the trail camera saw out there near the crate with Domino’s familiar items.

  “Lizzie, wake up!”

  Lizzie groaned and rolled over. Her room was still dark, though she could see a glimmer of light through one window. Why was her mom bothering her so early in the morning? “What,” she said, pulling the covers up to her chin. “Why?” She closed her eyes and burrowed her face into her pillow.

  “Lizzie, it’s about Domino!” Her mother gave Lizzie’s shoulder a little shake.

  Lizzie sat up and threw off her blankets. “They found him?” she asked.

  Biggie, who had been curled up at her side, leapt to his feet and let out a few little barks. He pawed at Lizzie.

  Something exciting is happening! Count me in!

  “Shh, Biggie,” said Mom. “No need to wake up everyone in the house.”

  “But what happened?” Lizzie asked.

  “They didn’t find him,” said Mom, “but they did see something on the footage from the trail cam. Mrs. Jackson just sent out an email and text blast, hoping for a crew of searchers.”

  “Let’s go,” Lizzie said, jumping out of bed. She pulled on a pair of jeans and a favorite old T-shirt that said PLEASE LET ME BE THE PERSON MY DOG THINKS I AM. Then she added a hoodie for warmth against the early morning chill. “I’m ready.”

  “What about something to eat?” Mom asked, following Lizzie down the stairs.

  “I have granola bars in my backpack,” said Lizzie. She snapped a leash onto Biggie’s collar. “And some dog food. And treats, of course. I’m all set.”

  Mom held up her hands. “I can see that,” she said. She took her car keys off the hook and opened the door. “Let’s go, then.”

  By the time they got to the trailhead parking lot, there were already quite a few people gathered. The news had gotten around quickly.

  “Biggie!” someone called from the middle of the crowd, when Lizzie climbed out of the car with Biggie on a leash.

  Biggie’s head flew up and his ears went forward as he sniffed the air.

  I know that voice. I love that voice.

  “Mr. Big!” shouted someone else. Then three girls broke out of the group and came zooming over to Biggie.

  “Tamara!” said Mom.

  Lizzie recognized another one of the other girls. “And Janice,” she said. She turned to the third girl. “And you must be Madison. What are you guys doing here?”

  The girls were too busy petting Biggie to answer. Tamara had scooped him up into her arms and she held him like a baby while she cooed over him. “Oh, Biggie, we’ve missed you so much!”

  Biggie waggled his eyebrows and licked their cheeks and fingers.

  I’ve missed you, too.

  Finally, Tamara turned to Lizzie. “We heard about the lost dog and we wanted to help. We all have Sunday off work, so we got over here as soon as we could. It’s a total bonus to see Biggie here!” She paused. “Oh, and you, too, Lizzie and Mrs. Peterson.”

  The girls insisted on taking turns holding Biggie’s leash as the group moved up the trail, a few people at a time so as not to frighten off Domino. Lizzie jogged ahead to catch up with Mr. and Mrs. Jackson. They were moving fast, even though they each had a baby strapped to their front. “What did you see on the trail cam?” Lizzie asked, panting.

  “Something,” said Mr. Jackson. “Something moved in and out of view, and something took the treats and the food.”

  “And Domino’s favorite toy,” added Mrs. Jackson. “Don’t forget, Squidly is gone.” She smiled at Lizzie. “Domino loves Squidly the squeaky squid.”

  “Could you tell for sure if it was Domino?” Lizzie asked.

  “Well,” said Mr. Jackson, swinging his arms as he almost jogged down the trail. “Maybe. It’s really hard to tell. The picture is fuzzy, and it was at night. Mostly you see these two glowing eyes, and maybe a pointy nose like Domino’s.”

  “But it had to be him,” said Mrs. Jackson. “I just know he’s still out here. And I know he wants us to find him.” She punched one fist into the other palm. The baby in her carrier stirred and yawned, throwing out one tiny arm. “Oops,” said Mrs. Jackson, in a lower voice. “Better not wake Merrie.”

  Lizzie couldn’t keep up with the Jacksons for long, and she soon fell back to hike with Biggie and his ado
ring girls. They kept exclaiming over him as he roved this way and that across the trail, sniffing at everything.

  “Look at him,” said Tamara. “Don’t you just love his little tail?”

  “And his funny little ears!” added Janice. “I’ve missed those ears sooooo much!”

  “My favorite is his tiny paws,” Madison said, gazing at the busy pooch at the end of the leash she held.

  Biggie stopped for a moment and turned to stare at them.

  Quit it with all the “little, tiny” stuff! I’m a big boy. And hold it down. I’m trying to find something here. I need to focus.

  Lizzie laughed. Biggie almost looked offended

  So did Tamara. “Did you see that look?” she asked. “He doesn’t like it one bit when we call him ‘little.’ ”

  Lizzie nodded, wondering whether there was any chance that Tamara and her friends were thinking about taking Biggie back. They all seemed to love him so much. Could they make it work if they organized their work schedules a bit?

  “Can I take a turn holding Biggie?” Lizzie asked. She wanted to walk on her own for a few minutes and think about how to bring up the subject with the girls. A little reluctantly, Tamara passed the pup’s leash to Lizzie, and she and her friends headed off up the trail.

  “What do you think, Biggie?” Lizzie asked the pup. “Do you want to live with the girls again?”

  But the pup wasn’t listening. When she looked down at him, Lizzie saw that he was standing very still with his nose up and quivering. His ears twitched and swiveled this way and that.

  Hold on there! I think I heard something.

  Lizzie tightened her grip on Biggie’s leash. He looked like he was about to bolt into the woods the way he had the day before. In fact, she noticed that they were almost in the same place where that had happened, not far from the big boulder where Mr. Jackson had set up the crate and trail cam. “Easy, there,” she said in a soft voice. “Easy, Biggie.”