Today marks the one year anniversary of the day my dog, Blitz, seemingly vanished while on a hike in the foothills of Colorado. I’d like to share her truly incredibly story, for it was a prime example of the imitable strength of the Law of Attraction. Though I still have much work to do in aligning my life with this law, my experience with Blitz’s wilderness trek – as I like to think of it now – showed me how powerful its success feels.
On a mild Sunday afternoon in February, a few friends and I decided to hike in the foothills with our dogs. We arrived at an open space park with wooded trails surrounding it, and were joined by many fellow outdoor lovers. At that point, I had my black lab rescue for a couple years and she had always done well off-leash, so I soon let her free once we reached the open meadow. I looked on and smiled as Blitz romped around in the melting snow, her shiny black coat glimmering in the sun. Her love of freedom was so beautiful, I never had the heart to keep that from her. Things took a turn for the worse when, less than five minutes later, I spotted a group of deer. I immediately went to grab Blitz before she chased them, but she was too quick – our two dogs took off after the deer. Luckily our friend’s dog came back immediately, but Blitz continued to chase the group. My friends reassured me she would come back soon, but I had an uneasy feeling about it and immediately began searching.
Minutes ticked by, hours passed, then dusk settled – and still there was no sign of Blitz. Now we had the whole park calling for her, and my panic officially set in. The evening grew darker, and we discussed what to do next. After crying in disbelief in the parking lot, we rushed to the local library to print flyers. We put up as many as we could in the park and its surrounding neighborhoods. I was unfamiliar with the area, so I felt completely overwhelmed at the situation. I couldn’t even begin to anticipate where she could’ve ran off to. Finally, we had to leave; it was an incredibly difficult decision to make, but we really had no choice. I was in complete shock. The drive back to Denver was utter torture, nightmarish thoughts and scenes reeling in my mind. Was she hurt? Was she looking for us? Would I ever see her again? What do I even do now?
I desperately fought the feeling of helplessness and devoted every ounce of my energy into spreading the word of Blitz’s disappearance. The rescue that I adopted her from sent out emails to their enormous address book and shared it on their Facebook. I posted on every relevant website I could think of. I gave descriptions to every nearby shelter, animal control, and veterinarian. I purchased a service that sent out calls to thousands of neighbors detailing what Blitz looked like and instructing them to call me with any information. Through this service, I received a call from a woman who thought she saw Blitz on her porch the night before. Immediately I drove to her area and hung clothing with my sent, left out water, and put signs in every mailbox I saw. I gathered a group of my friends for a search party, and we were sure that every person in the small town knew about the situation. Soon the word spread like wildfire, and I had people looking for Blitz in every direction. My grief was undeniable, but I could not shake the feeling that Blitz would come back. She is such a fighter, such a survivor – I knew she had it in her.
Days passed, and I simply could not concentrate on anything else. Unhelpful call after call to shelters and vets zapped my hope little by little. I even convinced the police station in the area to send out an email to their town residents. How could she not be seen, I thought to myself? I was working so hard to bring her back. My anxiety spiked drastically each time my phone rang and an unknown number appeared on the screen. This is it, I would think, but my heart would drop as the caller began “I don’t have your dog, but….”. I scoured the pet section on Craiglist in case someone found her and was trying to sell her. I received some possible leads, but none of them turned out to be Blitz. Each day after work I would drive the 45 minutes to the park where she vanished, call for her, search for her, and hang hundreds of signs… but still I had nothing. Time passed painfully. My friends started talking about other things, attempting to take my mind off it, but I simply couldn’t – it was all consuming.
About a week after Blitz took off, I answered a call from a woman who lived in the park’s area. To my surprise, and I admit, slight frustration, she was sobbing on the phone. She kept repeating that she had to find Blitz. She told me of the mountain lions and other wildlife in the area, and how she kept picturing her dog out there alone in the cold. She told me she would search for Blitz every day. I appreciated her dedication to finding my dog, but hearing about the potential dangers – which I already knew – tied even more knots in my stomach. I shook it off as best I could, and kept up my search.
The initial frenzy of calls and people searching died down. I could feel others giving up. People kept encouraging me to find peace with the possibility that she likely would not return. Anything could have happened, they said, tell yourself that some nice family living in the mountains found her and are taking great care of her. Maybe they were right, I thought to myself, maybe I should find a way to move on. I still couldn’t stomach the thought that I would never see my little dog again, I couldn’t shake the guilty feeling that I let her down. A few snow storms passed through the area and I pictured her cold, hungry and alone. I wondered how she would keep herself warm and fed. My heart was shattered.
I knew most people would be giving up by now, but I could not silence the voice in my head – repeating she’s out there, she is so strong, someone will find her. I tried to focus on the silver lining. I had never felt so much love pouring into my life from complete strangers, people who sympathized with my pain, people who wanted nothing more than to see Blitz come home. I received so many comforting calls; shed tears and shared heartache with people I would never meet. I had a glimpse of true human nature – our desire to care for one another – and it was beautiful. One day, a few weeks in, I spoke with a woman who said she could communicate with animals. She never claimed to be a professional and never asked for money, but she shared her insight with me. Immediately she confirmed my own belief, that Blitz was still alive. She saw her headed deeper into the mountains, which contradicted where our earlier leads had us searching. She told me that animals communicate through visuals, not words. Instead of talking to her she instructed me to visualize her safe, staying off roads, and approaching people for help. So every day that is what I did. I pictured how happy I would be when I had her back, safe in my arms.
My best friend Kristie, who lived with me at the time and who I considered Blitz’s other mother, was experiencing all the same anguish. While at work, pretending things were normal, we texted one another constantly, fumbling with the little information we had, utterly confused on how to proceed. We asked each other, as painful as it was, do we let go? One Saturday night, on the eve of a month into the exhausting journey, we sat in the dark, our despair palpable. I decided I had to go out, I couldn’t sit in the dark room and drown in my thoughts any longer. So I got drunk and I confided in the bartender… who came around to hug me while I sobbed into her shirt. Strangely, it was therapeutic. I am always amazed at the strength of the divine feminine, that instinct of protection, even for people you don’t know. Women can truly experience another’s emotions and pain as if they are her own, and that, I think, is a characteristic worth exalting. I asked my boyfriend on our way home that night, “will I ever be okay?” – I truly did not know.
After that night, I decided I would continue on with my life. I would still do everything in my power to bring Blitz home, if she was out there, but I made a decision to allow myself to be happy again. I had done everything I could possibly do, and now I had no choice but to find acceptance. I received a few more false leads, each time equally as disappointing. I was on a literal rollercoaster of emotion, and it drained everything I had. I envisioned Blitz with a family deep in the mountains, happily exploring the wilderness, being loved and cared for by yet another owner – she had been through many. Kristie and I joked that maybe she was simply never meant to be owned… she was the epitome of a free spirit. I told myself I had to let her go.
A couple weeks later, on April 1st, 2014 – April Fool’s Day ironically – I looked down at my ringing phone to yet another unknown number. I answered, my heart still skipped a beat, to a familiar sobbing voice. It was Shelly, the same woman who had called me weeks ago vowing to find my dog. She fought through her sobs to ask me how I was. Again, mild frustration rose in me, simply because every phone call that led nowhere took so much out of me emotionally. I just wished to be left alone at that point. But after a bit of a roundabout conversation, she began hesitantly between sobs, “I don’t even want to do this to you, I know how much you’ve been through, but… I think I found your dog.” Tears immediately welled in my eyes as I pushed for more information. She continued, “I was walking around my neighborhood this morning and I saw a small found sign, and I swear it’s Blitz. I have been looking at her picture for a month and I just know it’s her. Does she have a little white on her back toes?” My heart racing, I confirmed, “Yes, almost like it was painted on.” Shelly sobbed out “it’s her!” I completely broke down, I knew this was it, I could feel it. Shelly gave me the number on the poster, and I immediately called and left a voicemail for the family. I waited anxiously. Soon they returned my call and asked me what color collar my dog had on, I responded, “well I’m sure hers would have fallen off by now, but it was aqua blue.” My throat tightened as I waited for the answer I needed, “I think we’ve got her.”
My mind was racing, I ran to my boss’s office in tears to tell her the news, and she gave me permission to go. I called Kristie, who was rightfully skeptical, and assured her I really felt this was Blitz. We raced home, got in the car, and began the drive we drove far too many times. We wound through unfamiliar neighborhoods, about ten miles or so from where we initially lost Blitz – correctly predicted by my previous psychic caller. We finally located the house, parked the car, attempted to remain as calm as possible, and approached the door. We rang the doorbell, only to hear Blitz’s unforgettable little bark. The door opened, we saw her face and crumpled to the floor in an emotional heap. Blitz sprinted around the house – her joy apparent – and soon collapsed, smiling and panting, on the floor beside us. A reunion like no other, a real life Homeward Bound.
The family who found Blitz was new to Colorado and really didn’t know how to locate the owners of a lost dog. They saw Blitz roaming around their yard several days prior, and because they left food outside for the foxes she began hanging around their house. At first she was skeptical of people, since dogs will generally go feral pretty quickly when lost, so she stayed a safe distance. Their young daughter attempted to gain Blitz’s trust by feedings her, and soon they got her inside. They bathed her, fed her, and gave her love. After a couple days they decided to put up the signs that Shelly saw. I asked them, out of curiosity, if they’d seen the flyers all over the town, posts on Craigslist and Facebook, classified in the newspaper, or thought to take her to the vet to see if she was microchipped – but they really had not thought about any of those outlets. Because of this, if it had not been for Shelly, I would never have found my dog. The family definitely would’ve kept Blitz with their other black lab; and she would’ve lived a happy, healthy life without me. Thankfully for one dedicated person, she was returned to her family.
Kristie and I embraced in another tearful hug, this time filled with joy. After profusely thanking the family and offering a reward, which they vehemently turned down, we took Blitz home. She fell asleep immediately, exhausted from her adventures in the wilderness, and her search for us, too. We stopped to see Shelly, the woman responsible for the whole reunion, and joyfully celebrated together. She was genuinely as happy as we were, and I felt overwhelming gratitude for her. Through the entire devastating experience, one thing remained true – there are genuinely good and honest people everywhere in the world. No matter what evil the media spreads on a daily basis, I believe our cores are filled with love and compassion for all sentient beings.
Kristie, Blitz, and I arrived home after making all the necessary phone calls informing our friends, family, and multitudes of volunteers of the good news. Disbelief was the common reaction; most didn’t think, after all this time, that we would have a happy ending. People thanked me for being such a caring dog owner, and for refusing to give up hope. So many people wanted to hear our story that the local newspaper wrote a small piece on Blitz and I. Finally I could take a deep breath, it literally felt like I hadn’t in weeks. Unbelievably, Blitz had been gone for 44 days in the densely forested wilderness of the Rocky Mountains.
Thinking back on it, I still cannot believe it happened, the memories feel surreal. I firmly believe Blitz’s return is attributed to the Law of Attraction. Thoughts become things. My higher self was urging me not to give up, to keep pushing until Blitz and I were reunited. I envisioned over and over how great it would feel when I saw her again, and I manifested it into reality. I wanted nothing more than to find her, and the Universe obliged. Even with all the doubts, the false leads, the countless let downs, I could not shake the underlying hope I had. I talked to Blitz every day, told her how much I loved her, that I needed her back, and sent her visions of seeking help from people. I found inspiration from people like Shelly, and the many wonderful souls who helped me on this journey. Their dedication to a stranger, to a situation that seemed hopeless to so many, to one that they wouldn’t directly benefit from – that to me, is the epitome of beauty. I manifested my future with Blitz, and I refused any other outcome then us growing old together. I am her person and she is my amazing warrior dog.
Awaken & Explore 