Day 1: Myrtle runs away

We were envisioning ourselves as rescuers, whom our new dog would revere and thank for the rest of her life with loyalty and love. How could she ever want to spend a second away from the guys who freed her from a life in a cage, gave her a fluffy bed, and an endless supply of treats and chicken?!

We were totally wrong. We simply didn’t understand the effects of the trauma she’s lived through, and she almost immediately ran away.

Myrtle was fine on the ride home, and sat on my lap. She stood around outside in the grass on her leash. Things were going great.

Later, experts would tell us she was in shock, and in a sort of “survival mode.”

Minutes after this photo was taken, Myrtle made a run for it.

I went inside to get ready for work, only to have Ty come running in, yelling, “Myrtle ran away!”

Luckily, she ran toward a cul-de-sac, so she was trapped somewhere. We spent half an hour jumping our neighbors’ walls, searching for her. I’m sure their doorbell cameras caught quite a show.

Eventually, I found Myrtle hunkered down in the backyard of a neighbor I’d never met. They weren’t home, so I couldn’t even ask for permission to trespass in their yard.

I jumped the wall, and slowly walked toward Myrtle, who (surprisingly) slowly walked toward me. I put her on the leash, and lifted her up and over the wall to Ty in the street.

It was a dramatic first couple of hours at home, but also an introduction to the challenges ahead of us.
It soon became clear that Myrtle had no sense of comfort, pleasure, fun, or anything a normal dog lives for. For a few days, we thought we were definitely in over our heads. We decided to give it a few weeks to see what progress we could make.

Day 1 at home, shortly after we carried Myrtle back to the house.

If you are interested in my travel adventures, check out my travel blog Jared’s Detours.