Loyalty

This story is about finding a missing person and the loyalty of a dog when his master dies in a mountain bike crash.

Dog refuses to leave his masters side despite being cold, hungry and thirsty.

The Missing Man and his Loyal Dog

A large group of foot and All Terrain Vehicles (ATV) searchers came together early one morning to help locate a missing person. The man, his dog and his bike were frequent riders on the tracks of local forests but one day they did not make it home.

They had been missing for 24 hours when I joined the search. It was a big turn out with different agencies and lots of volunteers on foot and in ATVs.

I was appointed as a team leader and ATV driver for the search and given a grid containing a number of tracks. Police had already had dirt bikes in the area but hadn't managed to find anything.

We had been searching for quite some time when our search grid became hampered by terrain that was unsuitable for the vehicles.  It is quite normal to switch between ATV and foot searching when you can't get somewhere in the vehicle, so I took a couple of members from the team off track by foot, leaving the remainder at the bottom of the incline with the vehicles. 

We scampered up a hill, initially on an infrequently used track.  This eventually ran out, a moderate distance short of our grid boundary. For some reason, still unknown to me today, I made a decision to track with the team diagonally towards the end corner of our search area.  The intent wasn't to cover every inch but just see if there was anything else of interest. It was instinctive and didn't make any real sense in terms of our search training.

Surprisingly, after some time cutting through the bush we came across a small unmarked and rarely used track.  We decided to follow the track and see where it went. It was a decision and discovery that would change everything!

We had only been on the track a relatively short amount of time when I saw something move in front of me about 30-50m further down the track. It took a few moments to get closer and for my brain to register that it was a dog.

I immediately knew that we had found him, my adrenaline went through the roof and I started to run. Then just as quickly I slowed, my subconscious throwing out warnings, as I remembered the early morning briefing. The dog could be scared, injured or dangerous.

I asked the searchers behind me on the track to stay where they were as I moved slowly and cautiously toward the dog, speaking quietly and kindly to let him know I was a friend. The dog seemed to be both very happy to see me and very protective of his master. He moved towards me and then back to his master, his tail wagging but his head bowed and his movements edgy. He repeated this several times as I approached, the dog clearly out of sorts and wanting to show me something.

As I got close I could see part of a body and bike on the other side of a tree. In the blurry haze that followed I seemed to do a hundred things at once: contact Incident Control, make friends with and reassure the dog, communicate with the team behind me, and physically check that the person, now in full vision was deceased and not just injured. 

The mind is a fickle thing at times. In this moment of heightened activity my mind was trying so hard to process but it was also overwhelmed by thoughts, information and external demands. So much so that I couldn't really think straight at all. Time is going so fast and so slowly all at once.

I know that what I was seeing was inconsistent with life but I couldn't help but think ..."but what if……" and that tiniest bit of possibility meant that I had to check.  To be honest I didn't want to look at all, let alone touch the man. It seemed to be so personal and an invasion of his privacy to even be there. My mind was spinning with a million thoughts and emotions. 

But of course I'm not a doctor and maybe I'm wrong. Perhaps there's a chance?

There is also a team to manage, incident controller chasing information, and the dog is looking anxiously at you and wondering why you’re going near their beloved master…. 

The touch of his skin is cold and rubbery. There is no 'what if' anymore. The realisation that he is dead hits hard. That that tiny bit of hope is gone :(

There is no time for feeling or processing what will later become big emotions. I tuck away my own distress and focus on the demands around me. 

The dog has been out all night sitting beside his master, waiting, hoping, cold, hungry and alone. He is distressed and dehydrated.  I only have a back pack with a water bladder so call out to the nearest team member who has a water bottle.

I step away from the scene to meet them back up the trail and whilst they offer to come closer with you and help I know that it's important to keep them away. Training messages sound in the back of your mind - it is important to keep exposure to a minimum. Independent of training I know in my heart that there is no unseeing this.

The dog is increasingly unsettled, keen to follow you but wanting to stay with his master so he is ½ between.  I collect the water, quickly chat with the team member and then turn and head back to the scene.

Giving the dog some much needed water strengthens your bond and he stays close to your side from that point on. I guess I could've waited further down the track but it seems wrong to leave the man alone and so we face the endless wait for the police together: the deceased man, the dog and me.

Calls continue to come think and fast on my phone and radio.  The location is not a marked track and finding us takes time.  My scattered thoughts make it harder for me to provide effective navigational information. In between my own calls I hear general calls on the radio calling all of the remaining search teams back to base. 

After what seems like an eternity the police arrive.  They need room to work so after exchanging information I go further down the track away from the scene, the hardest part is leaving the dog behind with someone else. He looks mournfully at me as I walk away but I do my best to reassure him and walk away with a lump in my throat.

A short time later the mans brother arrived nearby. He is there not only for his brother but to take collection of the dog. I can see and feel his distress.  It seems surreal and his feelings in that moment are unimaginable.

The police try to lead the dog down but he won’t budge. It’s his job to protect his master.  He has stayed all night and is resisting any attempts to make him leave.

I offer to help, knowing that the dog and I have developed a bond.  I go and kneel next to him and reassure him.  I tell him what a good boy he is, that he’s been brave and that it’s ok to be sad, but that it is time to go. He seems to understand and lets me take his lead and walk him down to where the mans brother is waiting. 

It is more difficult to hand him over than I expect.  The dog knows this man, but he seems torn and looks up at me searching for reassurance.  I speak a few words to his brother making sure that the dog has somewhere to go. Then I bend down and talk to the dog and give him some last pats, then turn and walk away.  The sad puppy dog eyes will haunt me forever.  We have seen something together that neither of us ever wanted to see.

___

A scar you cannot see

The baton now passed to others, the adrenaline starts to leave my body and the heaviness starts to set in.

Some more time passes and we are eventually released to return to base.  By the time we got there everyone else had been already left.  It seemed odd to get back and have everyone else already gone. There is normally a group debrief and the ability to connect with the group and share information.  But there is hardly anyone there. The ability to share or talk to your colleagues about the weight and confusion you feel is lost. 

There is an offer to access support or talk to someone but it seems too soon and I just want to leave.

A few days later someone calls to check in but I'm still numb. 

I seem to be on auto pilot around this time. I'm still doing everything that I normally do but I feel disconnected and everything seems distant and surreal.

Sadly this search and outcome wasn't the only one at this time. I was involved in 3 searches in a row involving deceased persons and I remember people joking that I if I went to a search they'd find the missing person deceased. It was always in jest and I always laughed but somewhere deep down I wondered if there was a bit of truth to this?

Concerns within the hierarchy filtered through and a special support session was organised for me and the other 2 members of my team who found the man and the dog.

I remember thinking prior to going that this would be a positive thing and would help me.  I had so much going on in my head that I was struggling to process it. Unfortunately, despite good intentions it was the most awkward and unhelpful session that seemed more about process and little about anything else.

The only question I wanted answered was ‘how is the dog’?  In my head I had been worried about him more than anything, often coming up with thoughts that revolved around adopting him.  After reinforcing my concern about the dog, someone committed to finding out.

After sitting there for what seemed like ages as the counsellor talked at us, we were excused. 

The 2 other members and I walked out feeling like it was a waste of time and decided to catch up at a coffee shop together for a more informal debrief.   This was much more helpful and allowed us to talk about our experience and how we were feeling.

Then we all just went about our lives. 

In the days that followed I wondered if the dog blamed himself?  Did his master hit a rock, or did the dog get in the way? I wonder if he died instantly or if he suffered. I have no medical expertise to guide me.  I tell myself a story that seems horrible but digestible.  The mans bike hit a rock when travelling at speed, the man thrown off, hitting the tree and that it was all over in an instant.  He died doing something he loved and his last moment was a fun and exciting one. I can make peace with this. But I can’t do the same for the dog. He was there all night, waiting, hoping, never leaving.  It seems the ultimate cruelty but also the most poignant display of love between dog and man.

The images and pervasive thoughts consumed a lot of my mind in the first few weeks but I tucked them away as best as I could and over time they became less frequent.  They are locked in a box except when something triggers a reminder, the same type of dog, the same forest, or any reference to mountain biking. 

I go past a different forest with mountain bikers coming and going often. There isn’t a time when I see mountain bikes that I don’t see the image of the man and the dog.

There is a scar you cannot see. The memories of that day will be etched in my heart forever.