Gigi has found her (basso profundo) voice

For a long time, Gigi never barked. That changed in the last week. Now Gigi is slim--downright skinny. Her legs are very long for a sheltie. Nancy and I think she looks like a fawn. But when she barks, it reminds you of what they said about Tallulah Bankhead: "Her voice is one octave lower than laryngitis." If you didn't see her, and just heard her woof-woof-woof-woofing, you'd think Rottweiler, even though she looks a lot more like Bambi. Now she's barking much more frequently, which we get a kick out of (but probably not our neighbors).

I think it's a general sign of growing self-confidence. Though on a walk, Gigi remains apprehensive, crouching and moving from side to side, seemingly alarmed by noises she cannot see the source of.

We've now had her back more three and half weeks, and are thrilled to have her.

Gigi is doing well

I know we haven't posted in a while. Gigi is doing well and visibly gaining weight. She and Lucy continue to play tirelessly, tracking in dirt, digging up house plants, shredding tissues and generally having fun.

Though still skitterish, she's much bolder. She used to avoid certain parts of our large kitchen. Now she runs around the whole space. She also eats her food then goes for Lucy's. Most important, she's demonstrating and demanding affection.

The play imperative

The role of play in Gigi's rescue led to the following thoughts from Jim.

A semi-famous philosopher named Johan Huizinga wrote a book called (of course the title was in Latin) Homo Ludens. His core idea is that what really distinguishes mankind from all other animals was our joy in and inclination to play. Not opposable thumbs. Not tool-making. Play. It was a lovely idea, because he does make a strong case for the important role of play in mankind’s achievements in law, science, philosophy, and the arts. It was also a profoundly stupid idea from a man who obviously never had a dog in his life or observed dogs (or otters or dolphins or chimpanzees, for that matter) without blinders on.

The truth is that dogs love play, from the moment they can walk to well beyond the point where they can barely pull themselves up off the rug. They signal this love with the classic play-bow, that unmistakable posture where a dog lowers the front if it its body to the ground, with its head, tongue out, with its butt and tail up, the latter wagging. It is not something they schedule, like a play date for a child, who is more cared for than loved. It is not something they have to remind themselves to do. It isn’t even something they need to have someone else do with them—hence, the unbounded joy of chasing your own tail. A sense of play springs from them naturally, effervescently and unbidden. It doesn’t need a set of rules, a ball, or a joystick.

The great mistake we as humans make is to separate play as something we consciously do at specified times or to think of play as one of those childish things we "put away" as we become adults. Huizinga was partly right. Play is in our human nature.To play is to be child-like. It is not childish. A sense of play is the essence not just of a full life, but a creative life. At work, it leads to the non-linear connections of inspired innovation. Play is the essence of brain-storming. I have even known a sense of play to add laughter to a funeral. When my step-grandmother died, I met some cousins of hers for the first time. She was a famously unhappy, bitter woman. Cousin Tommy Dunn looked at her in the coffin and said, “Hmmm, same nasty scowl she’s always had.” We figuratively died laughing, and it released in me my pleasant memories of Grandma Mary and freed us all from the need to pretend she wasn’t an old battle axe. We had a great time at the wake. Play is why we often use our dogs to bring family members, who are barely speaking to each other, together. But we don’t need to put this burden on our dogs alone. We can and should re-discover our own love of play and playfulness.

Robert Frost wrote one of the loveliest, shortest, and most profound of poems. It’s two lines:

The old dog barked backwards without getting up.
I remember when he was a pup.

I have known this dog. And I also know this. As he lays sleeping and dreaming, his legs race as he chases and barks at a bird far overhead. He dreams of play to the happy end. I hope I follow suit.

Gigi's first full weekend with us

Gigi played and slept hard. She's acting more confident. Yesterday, Nancy, Gigi and I made a brief visit the Jonas, Eva and Nalle Hafstrom at the Swedish Embassay residence. We dropped off a small gift for all their help. Gigi was a little nervous, and we held tight onto her leash. We don't want her running into the backyard!

Also, the wife of the Japanese ambassador, Yoriko Fujisaki,who also kept a watchful eye on Gigi's comings and goings, reached out to us by phone. The Fujisaki's apartment in Tokyo is near Friend's School, where Nancy taught English many years ago. It's in the area around Tokyo Tower.

Jim's first dog

Gigi is sitting at the moment with Nancy on our living room sofa, as a fire burns in our fireplace.

Jim is working on completing a book about the dogs I have known and what I have learned from them, which I had put aside for several years. Inspired by Gigi and the love of dog demonstrated by the many people who helped us in our search for her, I've decided to make final revisions to the manuscript and see if I can get it published. Here is the story of my first dog: Salty. It is brief, since Salty died when I was young. One photo is of my older brother and sister, Ed and Judy, Salty, and me (the youngest--on the right). The other is, need I say it, of Salty.

Salty was the first of ten dogs who I have shared my life with. Gigi is the tenth.

My first dog was Salty, a black and white female English Bull Dog. My parents got her when I was a baby. I have no memories of life before her. She gave me my first slobbery, sloppy French kiss, with her huge tongue lapping out of that smashed face with the immense mouth which always seemed to be a in a perpetual grin. Certain stories about Salty have become favorites in my family.

For those unsmitten by and uninitiated to English Bull Dogs, they can (I don’t really understand how) appear scary and mean. We had a corner lot and my brother, two sisters, and I were always outside, along with dozens of kids from the neighborhood. Of course, Salty was always there with us. Adults would walk down the sidewalk, see that massive head with the pronounced under-bite and lower canines jutting out and cross the street, avoiding the perceived canine menace. Children were children. They ran into our yard and literally jumped on Salty, rolling around with her in the grass, gleefully and unconvincingly protesting as she licked them smack in the face. We are saw her real beauty—the beauty of a creature that is completely authentic. And when Salty ran through a crowd of us, like a speeding, furry bowling ball on short, bowed legs, knocking down everyone before her like bowling pins, we laughed and hooted and got up and hoped she would do it once again. She did.

Salty’s forbearance and patience were legendary in our clan. My younger sister thought it was really fun to try to lift this sixty-pound dog by her ears. She’d grab those floppy appendages with the vice-like grip of a toddler and do her darndest to hoist her up, Though there was little chance of that since Patti was only thirty pounds at the time. Salty never, ever objected. Not a snarl nor a growl nor even a twitch. Of course, if you’ve ever had a massage or facial when the therapist pulled on your ears, you may understand why Salty didn’t object. She was on to something.

Salty also provided me with my first experience of loss. Since she was my own age, it was like losing a better part of me, a loving, fuzzy non-identical twin. My parents had her euthanized because of a chronic, incurable illness. She was only six and half years old. And since I was the same age, the circumstances, the how and why of their decision, remain forever shrouded in mystery and lack of remembrance. But the pain, if I invite it in, remains sharp and vivid many decades later, though balanced and brightened by all the joy Salty gave my entire family.

Copyright 2010

Gigi is acting more like a dog

Last night she was sneaking slippers and chewing on them. She and Lucy, our other Sheltie, are rough-housing everywhere, picking up detritus from our evergreens in the yard and tracking it throughout the house. And this morning, she really barked for the first time. We were surprised that this skinny little thing has a deep, "manly" bark--octaves lower than Lucy, who outweighs her by ten pounds. Who knew? So our house is messier, Nancy's slippers are a little tattered, and it is noisier. But we are excited, because Gigi is so much less shy and timid. She's always been so sweet. Now she's acting happy. More like a dog. (We're still watching her like a hawk--we want no repeats of her great escape.)

Just photos

Nancy H and Gigi together. Salsa, the scent dog, who tracked Gigi around AU Park, Tenleytown, Frienship Heights and Spring Valley meet tonight in our home. Sam took the photos.

The "I couldn't make this stuff up" ending

NOTE: Since this is a blog, chapters will appear in reverse order. This is part 7. One photo is of a ball (read the story), another is of Gigi in Dr. Monsein's basement, minutes after her rescue, and third is of Gigi, Lucy, Nancy and Jim Hunn, happily together and at home.

Before we conclude the tale of Gigi's rescue, a quick update. Not along ago I met Sam, the pet tracker, at the grounds of the Swedish residence. We packed up the humane trap. The trap was not what returned Gigi to us. Sam and Salsa then came by and met Gigi. As Salsa approached the door to our house, she definitely noticed Gigi's scent. Since Sam and Gigi are both quiet and shy, they got along great. I'll share photos of their meeting in another blog update.

Now back to what a number of folks have been waiting for. Jim was speaking on Thursday evening with Nancy T, Gigi's foster mom from Charlottesville, and she reminded me of how much Gigi loved playing with a kickball. In fact, Jim had brought one home for Gigi the night she escaped. Nancy T suggested I take one to the area around the humane trap, which was close to Dr. Monsein's home. Jim was dubious, but thought what the hey. So early on Friday, Jim brought fresh fried chicken for the trap, and he dropped off the kickball.

Later that day, Lee Monsein and Sam Connelly spoke via phone, the first time they had "met." Lee told Sam that he had observed Gigi playing by herself with the kickball. Gigi played with the ball as if she were in a soccer match of one. She would push it forward with her head or bat it with her paws, chasing after it. Imagine Gigi, alone in the vast lawn of the ambassador's residence, playing with the kickball. Sam suggested to Lee that he place it in his dog run, which, if you have read the previous chapters in this saga, was rigged with a motion sensor detector aimed at the gate, with ropes running through the doctor's windows. The detector sounded an alarm in Lee's house if anything approached. So Lee placed the ball inside, along with food, and waited. Since he had placed a second motion detector aimed at the humane trap, and since Gigi was very active, approaching both the trap and dog run numerous times, Lee got little sleep as the alarm in his house repeatedly woke him up.

Finally, at 3:30 AM, Gigi, entered the dog run. None of the foods that the many Gigi fans suggested (KFC, Popeye's, lamb tripe, roast beef) did the trick. It was a rubber ball and the promise of play! When Super G entered the dog run, Lee slammed the door shut at which time Gigi went ballistic. She started to leap the height of the six-foot fence. Lee was afraid she might bounce over the fence and once again take flight. Quickly entering the run and picking Gigi up, Lee took Gigi into his downstairs den and called us at 3:47 AM. Ten minutes later, we walked into the basement room where Gigi, cool as a cucumber, was being petted by Lee.

What makes this so extraordinary is that Jim works for the national profit which advocates for the importance of play in our children's lives--KaBOOM!. In fact, it was a KaBOOM! kickball (our colors are purple and orange) that lured her in. KaBOOM! is launching a campaign to Save Play in the spring, building on our 14-year history of creating 1,700 playgrounds (each done in a day with all volunteer labor) for children throughout North America. We have drawn the support of our last three first ladies--Hillary Clinton, Laura Bush, and Michele Obama. We know that play makes children healthier, physically and emotionally. And in Gigi's case, play literally helped to save her life.

This entry is being written by Jim. I hesitate as I write, because the parallels between my personal and professional lives seem contrived. I am passionate about the importance of play and about dogs. For the two to unite in the rescue of Gigi seems unbelievable. Anyone who has watched the joy of creatures at play (in additional to humans and dogs, I've observed it first-hand with chimpanzees, cats, dolphins, mountain goats and many other species) knows that we are all hard-wired to cavort, run, bump into each other, leap, swirl and laugh or bark or chirp or squeal with delight. I believe play is an essential part of a full, happy and healthy life. It's how kids learn to engage with the physical world. And it is disappearing from our kids lives. Click on KaBOOM! if you want to read more. In the meantime, know that at this very moment, Gigi is teaching our other dog Lucy the joys of kickball. And my wife Nancy and I couldn't possibly be happier.

Final chapter will come tonight

Sorry for delay, but we spent the evening playing with Gigi. She and our Sheltie Lucy, who is around the same age, are now acting like Shelties--play herding each other in our backyard (securely fenced) and house. When Nancy and I came home last night Gigi actually ran to us and jumped up to get petted. We are still vigilant, but Gigi (her newest nickname is Super Gee) is showing signs of getting more comfortable. We know this can take more than a year with a rescue dog.

The Long Wait--wild critters, hi-tech and eyes on the prize

NOTE: Since this is a blog, chapters will appear in reverse order. This is part 6.
The one photo is of Nalle, Eva Hafstrom's dog, who from her perch in the second story at the back of the residence would bark whenever Gigi or the fox made an appearance. The other is night camera photo of Gigi (she is there, if you look hard).

The final piece of the puzzle was Dr. Lee Monsein. In one of those strokes of luck which pepper this tale, Larry Miller, who had spotted Gigi on Friday night at 44th and Van Ness, is good friends with Dr. Monsein, whose fenced yard gives onto the grounds of the Swedish residence. Larry gave me Lee's contact information. Lee and I spoke soon thereafter. Lee is passionate about dogs, and he clearly adores Rave, his gorgeous 4-year old female boxer. He is also a hi-tech enthusiast. This combination would prove essential our efforts to get Gigi back. Lee immediately agreed to help. He redirected a webcam he used to keep an eye on Rave when he wasn't home at the humane trap that Sam and I had set up--allowing us to watch the trap without having to drive to 44th and Van Ness every hour.

Over the next several days, Eva at one end of the property and Lee at the other were able to establish Gigi's schedule. In the morning hours from 5:00 to 7:30 AM, she was frequently visible to Eva and her dog Nalle nearer the residence, though Eva did observe her in the evenings too. Lee reliably saw her from around 10PM to 3AM, although he also saw her in the mornings. In a real sense, Gigi was no longer "lost". We knew just where she was. We decided not to report everything we knew on this blog, out of respect for the fact that all this was happening on Swedish territory and because if we were to catch Gigi, who is so easily frightened, we needed peace and calm.

On two occasions, Jim rushed to the location of the humane trap after getting reports that its door was shut. The first time as around 11PM. Flashlight in hand, he excitedly looked inside. It was a fat orange tabby, who rushed out the moment he opened the door. Jim was disappointed, to say the least. Two days later, in the pre-dawn hours, Jim rushed there again. This time it was fat raccoon, who had devoured all the fried chicken and looked very content to be there and in no hurry to leave. Jim had a devil of a time getting him/her out of the cage.

In the meantime, both Lee and Eva reported seeing Gigi being followed by the mangy fox who lives on the grounds. He was also eating food that Eva left out for Gigi. Both Sam the tracker and our vet assured us that the fox was no threat to a dog. Lee also observed deer on the grounds, too. So though Gigi was in a car-free oasis, critters were practically running into each other.

As Lee, Sam the pet tracker I considered our options (and Lee was a full-fledged member of the Gigi team), Lee decided to use his dog run, which had a gate that opened onto the residence grounds, as an enclosure trap. Unlike a small trap, the roofless run might well prove less scary to little Gigi. On his own initiative and with his own money, Lee purchased a motion detector and rigged it aimed at the gate, which we partially opened. We tied 100 lb. rope to two points on the gate which was physically close to a window in his home. Lee then ran the lines through the window from which he had removed the screen. He then closed the window. When the motion sensor detected movement, it rang an alarm in the house, so Lee could come and pull the gate shut. We placed fried chicken, raw ground beef, and a t-shirt with Gigi's foster mom's scent on it. At 1 AM the next morning, the alarm rang. Lee observed Gigi enter the run. He then pulled the rope to close the gate. But we probably hadn't placed the food far enough from the gate, and Gigi, who is incredibly fast and agile, turned quickly and slipped out.

Lee and I were now both worried she would remember, and possibly avoid the run at all costs. Over the next 48 hours, she did approach both trap and run numerous times, but never entered. She was clearly hungry.

Then on Wednesday, February 24, came the sighting at a little after 4 PM that nearly gave Jim a heart attack (he received the call at work and dashed over there). Gigi was reported being seen at the McDonald's which fronts Wisconsin Avenue at Van Ness--a mere six blocks away, but across Nebraska Avenue, which was clogged with traffic. Though the report was not verified, it led us to a change in strategy.

When a dog like Gigi is in the situation she is in, hunger is your friend--as cruel as that sounds. We thought only hunger would overcome her fear of the trap or being caught. But hunger may have caused her to leave the safety of the residence grounds in search of food (she had water and shelter). So I called Eva, and she began feeding her. We decided a less hungry Gig--who might be harder to catch--was far better than a dead Gigi hit by a car.

It was with great relief that both Eva and Lee reported seeing her that night.

At 3:30 AM on Friday, as Gigi was approaching the trap, it blew over, despite being chained to a tree. This was observed by Lee, who, it should be clear, was getting very little sleep. Nancy, Gigi and I will forever be in his debt. That was the night we had 50-60 MPH wind gusts. On the cold, damp, gray dawn of Friday, Nancy and I were as depressed as we has been throughout the search.

Little did we know that twenty-four hours later, Gigi would be safe in Dr. Monsein's basement and, soon thereafter, happily asleep in our home.

The final chapter of the saga: tomorrow. We've received a lot of e-mails with comments. Please post them as comments, so all of Gigi's fans can share!

P.S. Gigi is doing just fine. She is sleeping a lot! No wonder. And playing with our other Sheltie, Lucy. Lee came to visit last night. She did have a bit of loose bowels this morning, which was predicted, but the vet pronounces her AOK. A skinny girl to begin with, she went from 26.2 pounds to 23 (that's a 10% drop). But she will regain that weight with time. The day before she escaped our house, we had her heart tested by a specialist, since she had previously had heart worm (which she got the last time she was on her own). The cardiologist pronounced her heart sound and healthy. The cold weather of the last two weeks makes it highly unlikely that Gigi picked up anything yucky.