It’s early in the morning as the sun’s first rays reflect
off a powerful fast flowing river. A bird watcher with
binoculars is scanning the river from a high bank. When he
stops looking around and zeros in on a debris-filled
concrete culvert, he spots something moving.
Awakened by the warmth of the sun, a dog stands up
and looks around with a puzzled expression. It is a
medium-sized herding dog with a mixture of gray, black,
and white hair and white chest. His piercing blue eyes and
coyote-like ears take your breath away. The bird watcher
brings his binoculars down and just shakes his head as he
realizes that he has spotted another lost or abandoned dog.
The dog is Wiley and he has been lost for 16 hours. He has
a terrified look on his face as he shakes himself, stretches
and looks around, pondering his situation. “Where am I?”
he wonders to himself.
Wiley makes his way down from the culvert to the
river's edge, forcing some ducks to fly off. He wades
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onto a shallow bank and takes a long drink from the river,
wades into deeper water up to his chest for a moment, and
wades into deeper water up to his chest for a moment, and
then heads for shore. Wiley shakes off the water and then
begins shaking with fear. His shaking intensifies and he
drops to the ground, his eyes becoming clouded with doubt
and worry. Wiley stammers, “I’m lost.” He gets up and
starts wandering along the river’s edge, trying to make
sense of his situation. Wiley continues to talk to himself. “It
was my fault,” he says, remembering how his nightmare
started.
The previous day Wiley had been sitting in the
passenger seat of a 2003 White Ford Escape
watching John, his human companion, approach the
SUV. John is a real estate appraiser, and dog and
master have worked as a team for many years. John
got in the Escape and put his camera and clip board
on the seat by Wiley, took a map out of his briefcase
and started to look for a street. Wiley was
anticipating slowly cruising around the
neighborhood as John checked out comparable
sales. “Let’s roll,” Wiley said to himself, impatient
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to get going, he leaned against the passenger
window and complained, “Hey, lower the window.”
The window lowered all the way, Wiley was a very
happy dog as he and John slowly cruised the
neighborhood. He hung his head out of the SUV,
intently looking for dogs, cats or anything that
moved. Wiley grinned, “This is the life.”
The Escape swung down a street, stopping in front
of a house, and John took a picture. At that moment,
the owner of the home happened to come out of his
house with a huge black dog and noticed that John
had just taken a picture of his property. Wiley saw
the dog and started to whine. Then the owner and
his dog, a Great Dane and Black Lab mix, came out
to the street. When Wiley saw them coming toward
the Escape, he made more noise, upsetting the
owner and his big dog. John didn’t realize that the
owner saw him take the picture and started to
slowly drive off, turning on the radio. Wiley,
leaning out the window, continued to taunt the dog,
who was starting to get very agitated. “Buzz off big
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guy,” he shouted.
The large black dog slowly began to pick up speed
and gain on the SUV. “This is my turf,” he
responded.
Wiley, feeling cocky in the safety of a moving
vehicle, leaned out the window and yelled back,
“You couldn't catch a two-legged cat.”
The big dog’s owner was so upset that he ran down
the middle of the street, waving his arms and
shouting to John and Wiley. “Hey man, you can't
take a picture of my house and drive off. Smasher,
go get him boy!”
At that moment, John noticed the man, wearing just
a pair of shorts, rumbling down the street, pointing
at the Escape and yelling. As Wiley and Smasher
continued to bark at each other, Smasher caught up
to the Escape and was trying to attack it. John tried
to calm Wiley down shouting, “Wiley, put a sock in
it.”
But both dogs continued to bark at each other.
Wiley hollered, “We’re just doing our job. Take a
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hike.”
Smasher was now opposite Wiley’s door and looked
Wiley in the face and said, “I’m going to rip you to
pieces.”
Looking in the rear view window, John saw that the
owner had slowed down but was still coming after
him. Realizing things were out of control, John
decided to lose Smasher and his owner and called
out, “We’re out of here, Wiley.” John stepped on
the gas and swung around a corner. This move
caught Wiley off guard as he was already leaning
too far out his window. In the next instant, Wiley
was flying out of the Escape. He landed on his feet
and tumbled over onto the pavement. John saw
Wiley falling out of the SUV, screeched to a stop
and jumped out. “Wiley! Are you hurt?” he cried
out.
As John ran up to Wiley, his beloved pet was
already on his feet and face to face with Smasher.
“Well, what do we have here?” exclaimed a smiling
Smasher.
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Wiley, not completely conscious, but not one to run
from a fight, decided to charge Smasher. Smasher
grabbed him by his collar and swung him around a
couple of times. Suddenly, Wiley flew out of his
collar and landed on a corner lawn. Certain Wiley
had been injured, John ran to help him yelling out,
“Wiley, I’m coming.” Smasher moved in to finish
Wiley off, but Wiley tried to defend himself, and the
two dogs crashed together. John threw himself into
the middle of the dog fight, desperately trying to get
a hold of Smasher.
“Let them fight,” yelled Smasher’s owner.
“No way,” responded John, as he held on to
Smasher’s neck.
Wiley, who had come to his senses, realized that
John would be badly wounded if the fight continued.
He knew his only course of action was to take off.
He looked at John and said to himself, “I’m sorry
for getting you into this mess.” Then Wiley turned
and sprinted down the street, leaving John,
Smasher's owner, and Smasher standing there.
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Smasher put himself in gear and hauled out after
Wiley shouting, “Running away will not work, you
sissy.”
John, who was stunned, just stood there until
Smasher's owner started yelling at him. “Hey man,
why were you taking a picture of my house? You
and your crazy dog are going to pay big time.”
John decided to defuse the situation. “Listen, I'm
doing an appraisal. I don't need the picture of your
house. I'll delete it.”
Smasher’s owner yelled angrily, “Get the camera.
I'll delete it.”
“It’s in my car,” said John. “I’ll get it.” As he
headed back to his car, John realized that Wiley
was out there running for his life and the dog’s
owner was a real jerk. He needed to stop arguing
and find Wiley. “That guy was out of control like
his big dog,” John said under his breath. He shut
the door to the SUV, started the engine, and drove
off, leaving Smasher's owner standing in the street
in his shorts. John drove a few blocks, stopped, and
7
just sat in his seat. Finally, he cried out, “I can’t
believe it. I’ve lost Wiley.”
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CHAPTER TWO
Wiley was running for his life, with Smasher right
behind him. He flew down one block of houses and
headed up another street toward a women walking her
Dachshund. Seeing Wiley and Smasher charging at her
and her beloved pet Fritzy, the woman quickly reached
down and grabbed Fritzy and they both froze in place
as Wiley flew past them, with Smasher on his heels.
Wiley then cut across the lawn on a corner property
where the owner was standing on the sidewalk
admiring his newly seeded lawn. He began slipping and
sliding across the lawn as the horrified owner looked
on. Next, Smasher arrived, completely losing his footing
and ripping out what was left of the lawn. Already half
way down the street Wiley could hear the owner yelling,
“My new lawn is ruined.”
Meanwhile Smasher, who was quickly gaining on Wiley
shouted out, “You’re going to be my lunch.”
“How do I shake this bozo? Wiley wondered.
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As the chase continued down the sidewalk, Wiley took a
short cut, jumped over a low hedge and landed in a
small pond, just missing a cat about to pounce on a
bird. When Smasher hit the pond, the cat was drenched.
Wiley then saw a school and headed for the school
yard. He cut through an area where the students were
eating their lunches, causing them to scatter in different
directions, yelling to each other, “Watch out for the
dogs.”
By the time Wiley came out on the school play yard,
Smasher was right on his heels. Spotting a small
opening in the chain link fence, he said to himself. “I’ve
got to make it through that fence or I’m history.”
Smasher moved in for the kill, but Wiley dove through
the opening to safety, just as Smasher slid to a stop with
his nose against the fence. Glaring through the fence at
Wiley, Smasher shouted angrily, “I'll hunt you down.”
As Wiley walked along the edge of the river, reality
set in. “Boy, did I mess up,” he said. “I’ve never been lost.
What do I do now?”
Wiley waded in the shallow water and noticed a
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reflection of a bridge on the river. He stopped and looked
up. Quickly, his ears pivoted upward to full attention as
they picked up the sounds of heavy traffic going over the
bridge that spans the river. “I remember John and I went
over a big bridge yesterday, so I just need to go back across
the other way.”
Wiley left the river and scrambled up the bank to the
top of the culvert for a better view. He stopped, looked
around, and saw a street that connected to the bridge. Wiley
smiled for the first time since being on his own. “That
street leads to the bridge.”
Wiley started walking with a little pep in his gate. He
made his way down the street, then turned a corner and
arrived at the bridge.
It was the peak morning rush hour and cars, trucks
and vans were speeding by. Wiley looked at the busy sixlane
bridge. He was terrified, but he knew he had to cross
the bridge. “I have to get to the other side,” Wiley vowed.
He put his head down and started across, following a
narrow concrete walkway as the traffic sped by, forcing
him against the bridge’s concrete wall. The noise was too
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much for his large sensitive ears and he yelled out, “I can’t
take this noise.” He shook his head and lowered his ears in
an attempt to block the noise.
As Wiley made his way along the narrow walkway,
an impatient driver leaned on his horn. Wiley almost
jumped out of his skin and crashed against the concrete
wall of the bridge which nearly knocked him into the
oncoming traffic. Steadying himself, he continued on the
walkway. “Keep moving, keep moving,” he said to himself
determinedly.
Even a large bus which trapped him on the narrow
walkway couldn’t stop him. Hanging on until the bus
passed, Wiley continued walking one step at a time. As he
neared the end of the bridge, his confidence increased and
he exclaimed, “Nothing will stop me now.”
When Wiley arrived at the other side of the river, he
quickly jumped down from the bridge onto a dirt trail and
set a fast pace to get away from the noise and traffic. He
ran along a bluff on the high side of the river and soon
found a trail that lead to a very heavy thicket of trees and
brushes. Wiley started to tire and slow down, stopping near
12
a huge ancient oak to get his bearings. “Now what?” he
wondered.
Suddenly ahead of him, charging down the trail,
Wiley saw a large intent Akita on a leash with his owner
right behind him. The dog shouted at Wiley. “Out of my
way, mongrel.”
“Clear the trail,” yelled the Akita’s owner.
Wiley dove off the trail into the bushes. After the dust
settled, he slowly gathered himself up and returned to the
trail. As Wiley loped along with his head down, he felt
completely frustrated. “That never happened when I ran the
trails with John,” he said sadly.
The trail continued to wind along above the river near
residences with panoramic views. Wiley looked down at
the river. “If I stay near the river, at least I’ll have water to
drink,” he said as he jogged along, intensely searching for a
path home. “I have to find something I know, anything.”
At the same time of day, across town, a white Escape
SUV stormed into the parking lot of the County Animal
Control Center and skidded to a stop. John jumped out and
raced across the parking lot and entered the front door. He
13
charged up to the front desk and spoke to a female CACC
officer. “Could you help me?” John asked. “ I lost my dog
late yesterday afternoon.”
The officer slowly looked up from her paper work.
“Where?” she inquired.
“It was in the Riverside area,” John answered.
“Does your dog have any identification?” the officer
asked.
“Yes, he has a name tag on his blue collar,” replied
John.
The officer smiled, “That's good. What’s his name
and your phone number?”
John gave the information requested to the officer
who scanned her computer. “We do not have your dog at
this time. If we find him, we will call you,” she said. John's
head slumped as the officer handed him some papers.
“Here's a profile form that you need to fill out.”
Meanwhile, Wiley slowly made his way along the dirt
trail, just putting one paw in front of the other, head down
14
He was weak from hunger. “I need some food. I’ve already
missed three meals.”
Finally, he raised his head to see where he was. As he
looked down the trail which ran between a golf course and
the river, a jolt went right through him and he thought he
recognized something. He remained frozen in place for a
moment. “I’ve been here before. I remember,” he cried out.
Wiley’s heart was pounding as he charged down the
trail and came to a stop by an old bench at a spot where
another trail went down to the river. A big smile came over
his face as he exclaimed, “This is it! The old bench and the
trail John, Nancy and I took down to the river on our walks."
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CHAPTER THREE
Wiley took off running down the trail parallel to a golf
course. He paused for a moment and looked around. “I can
save time by cutting across the fairway and that putting
green,” he said joyfully. Then he noticed a slow moving
foursome of golfers just starting to putt out and decided to
take his chances. “I’m not waiting,” he said.
He raced across the fairway and up a slight knoll,
through a sand trap and across the large putting green,
dodging between the golfers. One of the golfers had just
putted and the ball was headed right for the cup until Wiley
knocked it off course. The golfers couldn’t believe it. One
of the golfers asked, “What was that?”
“A wild dog or maybe a coyote,” guessed another
golfer.
The golfer whose putt was ruined shouted, “I’m calling
the club house. Whatever it is might be rabid.” He ran over
to his cart and grabbed his cell phone.
Meanwhile, Wiley had made it back to the trail and was
16
golf course. He rounded a turn and continued up a small
grade, coming to a stop. Wiley looked over at a parking
area. “That’s where John, Nancy and I parked the car and
hiked in.” He looked down the street, “This is the way
home,” Wiley said joyfully.
He ran along on a little side shoulder of the two-lane
asphalt street. After awhile, he came to a major four-lane
street, hesitated for a moment and gathered his courage.
“Somehow I have to get across,” Wiley determined.
As he started across, cars honked and mad drivers
dodged around him, but he managed to reach the other side.
As he trotted along, Wiley began to feel upbeat. “John and
I traveled this street a lot,” he said to himself.
He came to a corner and stopped for a moment. An
English Pointer charged up to a chain link fence. He was
barking and running back and forth. Wiley looked at him
and asked, “Hey, what’s your problem?”
The dog recognized Wiley and was very upset. He
shouted, “What's my problem? For years you have been
stopping here in a car, perched there in the front seat with
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your head hanging out the window, your nose in the air.
When I came running out, you teased me”
Wiley was caught off guard and noticed that the dog
was starting to get mad. He stammered, “Yes, yes, of
course I remember you. Look, I'm sorry. That was stupid.
Believe me, I have learned my lesson. Now I’m trying to
find my way home.”
“You’re lost?’ asked the Pointer. “What’s your name?”
Wiley went over to the fence and in a low voice said to
the dog, “I’m Wiley. I was lost, but I remember you and
this corner. What’s your name?”
“I’m Dudley,” said the Pointer turning his head and
directing Wiley with a professional point. “You always
went that way. Good luck.”
Wiley nodded his head. “Thanks Dudley.” Heading
down the street with his head up, he reached the top of a
small hill. “It's not far now,” said Wiley excitedly. Then he
stopped, raised his long nose and inhaled, immediately
recognizing the strong sent of eucalyptus. “I love that
smell. It’s the grove,” he said as he sprinted toward the
familiar landmark.
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As Wiley neared the trees, he passed his favorite ranch
house. He ran along the wire fence and a small dog hurried
out to see him. It was a young Welsh Corgi named Lionel,
who realized his friend was in bad shape. “Wiley, you look
terrible. What happened?” asked Lionel.
Not stopping, Wiley yelled back, “Lionel, I have to get
home. I’ll see you later.” He ran past a horse and two goats,
and a rooster, who were in a pasture. “Hi Horse, Butler,
Rose, Jersey Joe,” he called out with glee.
Wiley then darted into the trees and quickly found his
favorite trail which wound through the center of the dense
grove. As he ran along a small creek, he thought with
excitement, “This my favorite trail. I’ve lead John through
it every morning for years.” Wiley had a confident look
and shouted joyfully, “I can make it home blindfolded.”
The trail widened as he ran by a large eucalyptus tree
and burst into a clearing and headed up an open field. As he
reached the beginning of his street, he cried out, “This is
my block!” He caught his breath and started for home.
But Wiley’s whole world stopped spinning when from
behind the bushes of a nearby house, out jumped an animal
19
control officer who quickly slipped a noose over Wiley’s
head and tightened it. Wiley halted in his tracks and let out
a loud yelp.
“Easy boy, you’re ok,” said the man in a stern voice.
Wiley was stunned as he was put in a cage by one of
the two animal control officers. Brad, had just finished his
training program. “You think this is the dog those golfers
called about?” he asked his superior. “He sort of looks like
a coyote.”
“I don’t know and it doesn’t matter,” snarled Earl, who
had long ago stopped caring about the dogs he picked up.
Wiley found himself inside a small metal holding cage
at the rear of the truck. He was bewildered, heart broken
and exhausted. While the two dogs catchers prepared to
leave, he peered out through the narrow openings of his
cage. He saw his street and the turn that ran right down to
his house. “I was almost home,” moaned Wiley sadly.
The animal control truck then traveled down the street
towards Wiley’s home. As Wiley peered through the open
metal slots of his cage, he saw Sadie, a large Basset Hound,
20
asleep on her driveway. Wiley yelled out through the slots,
“Sadie! Sadie!”
Sadie started to wake up and looked around asking,
“Wiley, is that you?”
Then the truck past Wiley's house and he saw his best
friend, Sasi, a Yellow Lab, sitting across the street on her
lawn, looking over at Wiley's house. Wiley shouted as loud
as he could,”Sasi! Sasi!”
Sasi jumped to her feet and looked around. She knew
she heard Wiley and with her head cocked and eyes full of
concern, looked for him. The truck had passed, but Sasi did
not see her friend. “Where’s Wiley? I can hear Wiley, but I
can’t see him.” said Sasi sorrowfully to herself.
Finally, Wiley caught a glimpse of Lindsey, a Cairn
Terrier, the oldest dog on the block, as she sat in her
window looking out. He desperately once again cried out
the names of his neighborhood friends. “Sadie!, Sasi!,
Lindsey!”
But the truck disappeared over a small knoll, and Wiley
saw the familiar sight of two cars in his driveway. “That’s
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my home, my family! Why aren’t we stopping?” he asked
as the as the animal control truck continued on its way.
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