Takano's Miracle

November 9 was a Saturday, and I had just finished installing a new dog door that I had built for Takano, his blood brother, Montana, and his sisters, Sasha and Katrina. I needed to purchase one final bolt to complete the project, so decided to take the furry children in to town with me to stop at Ace Hardware. After purchasing the bolt, I decided to take the furry kids for a quick run on the backside of Patty Canyon, just at the north end of Deer Creek where it drops down into the Clark Fork river. It was past 5:00 when I pulled up to our usual spot where I have always run the kids for the past 7 years they have been a part of our family. I thought to myself that it is really quite late in the day, and just too dark for any hunters to be down in that area. That was one mistake I intend to never make again. I let the kids out of the back of the truck thinking that we would make a quick run alongside Deer Creek located on land owned by Plum Creek Timber company. I have always found it interesting seeing the Forest Service sign that was split and shot almost in half, all of which was hanging from the barbed wire fence it was attached to. The sign reads "No Shooting Allowed."

Five minutes into our short walk, the kids were just about eighty yards ahead of me when I heard the loud report of a large caliber hunting rifle, followed quickly by Takano yelping out in pain and fear. I immediately screamed out ‘No' at the top of my lungs, to let the idiot know that he had better not be attempting to take a second shot. I was able to see the hunter within seconds of the shot, watching as all four of the kids were running back toward me. Takano and Montana were ahead of their sisters, and as I screamed no, the two boys turned and ran in a panic up the side of the mountain. I tried calling them back, but to no avail. The girls, Sasha and Katrina, for whatever reason, chose to stay with me.

I yelled at the hunter, asking him what in the world did he think he was doing shooting at my dogs. His immediate reply was, "I thought they were wolves," to which I immediately countered, "Wolves are illegal to shoot in the first place, you don't just shoot wolves!" His second reply was that he shot at them because they were running at him, and he shot out of fear for his own safety. In piecing together the chain of events the following day, Sunday, I was able to see that the kids were in fact running parallel and away from the hunter and approximately forty yards away. The churned up earth from the bullet mark in the old logging road that the kids were running on confirmed my initial suspicions. Just after the hunter shot at the kids, I was torn with knowing I had to get this person's name and ask whether he was shooting at or near my kids, important information I needed in making sense of the insanity that was unfolding before me. This combined with wanting to get up the mountain to get my two boys, Takano and Montana, down off the mountain. I got the hunter's name and his lame story of which changed yet again as to why he was shooting at my kids and that he was pretty certain he had shot into the ground, and did not hit one of the kids.

Within a few short minutes of questioning this person, I was heading up the side of the mountain, calling and whistling for Takano and Montana, and they just were not responding to my call. This found my stomach beginning to churn and twist. By this time it was basically dark and I was not able to see much. Walking back to my truck to grab my flashlight, I began to hope and wish that perhaps Takano and Montana headed up the side of the mountain and then turned back toward where the truck was parked. This was not so.

I grabbed my flashlight from my truck and headed back to the spot where both Montana and Takano ran up the side of the mountain. Calling and whistling for both Montana and Takano, I made the slow journey up the side of the mountain, Katrina and Sasha following along by my side. By the time I reached the first logging road heading up the mountain, it was pitch black out. As I crested the logging road, I shined my flashlight down the road. The flashlight's beam picked up a pair of eyes shining back at me. I called out, "Takano, is that you?" Those eyes did not move, they stood in place, unflinching. Puzzled, I walked toward the pair of eyes, using Montana's name as I called out to him. As I came closer, I was able to see that it was in fact Montana. Montana was so traumatized by the gun shot and the melee running up the side of the mountain in a terrified panic, he just didn't react in a excited or happy manner when he first realized it was me calling out to him with the flashlight. I hugged Montana, relieved to find him, but also perplexed as to why he did not respond to my calling and whistling as I hiked up the side of the mountain. It was also very strange that he did not trot up to me once I came out onto the logging road with the flashlight. Not knowing which direction to head toward, I opted to go up the logging road a bit further up the mountain. Sasha, Katrina, and Montana and I walked slowly along the road in the dark. I continued to call and whistle for Takano. I heard a coyote about 100 yards above us. It was barking at us as we made our way toward it and a upper logging road I was familiar with. Still no Takano. Dread crept further into me as we walked along looking for Mr. Takano. We circled back around and worked our way back down to the truck, hoping that perhaps Takano, knowing the area as well as he does, headed back to the truck and was waiting for us in the back of the truck.

Arriving back at the truck I found my fears beginning to accelerate. Still no Takano. The three kids jumped into the back of the truck as I turned to head back up the mountain. It was moving toward 7:00 in the evening by this time, but I could not just leave without looking again for Takano. I had to call the kids and coax them from out of the back of the truck as I started walking toward the area where Takano was shot and hike back up the mountain. Our second circle up and around the lower part of the mountain found us not locating Takano. With my heart heavy, we returned back to the empty truck and headed home.

My wife Sherry was in Hamilton that Saturday at a workshop. I called her at her friend Val's home, dreading having to share with her the horrible news of Takano being shot at, and at that time still not knowing whether or not he had been hit by the bullet, not knowing if he was laying mortally wounded, or wounded and running scared. I just didn't know. Sherry was so taken aback by the news, she expressed she could not talk about it on the phone any longer, that she was getting into the car and driving home and the two of us were going to head back to Deer Creek in the hopes of finding Takano. We arrived back at the area where I last saw Takano. We hiked back up the side of the mountain, calling and whistling for Takano. We looked as best we could with flashlights in the dark, calling, hoping, and calling again. We arrived back at the truck empty handed at 12:40 in the morning. This was my third time up the mountain, and Sherry's first that evening, and we had no idea where Takano was, whether he was shot or not, and if so, whether he was fatally wounded and running frightened. We just did not know. What torture that emotion brings one's heart.

Sunday morning I was up early to head back up the mountain for another look for Takano, with plans for heading back that afternoon with Sherry and some friends of ours, in the hopes of adding more of a chance in finding Takano given there were more people available to look for him. I was able to piece together what happened with the hunter shooting at Takano. I found a large gouge in the ground where the kids were running; the bullet had tore into the dirt, leaving a large 18 inch long trough in the old logging road the kids were running on when they were shot at. Interesting enough, the kids were perpendicular and running away from the hunter when he shot at them from about forty yards away.

I was not able to find Takano that morning, but I did manage to find some paw prints on one of the upper logging roads that I surmised were Montana's, given they were a bit larger than I felt Takano's would be. I called my friend Robert to ask if he might help assist us in looking for Takano, as well as asking our next door neighbor Sioux if she would help us look for Takano. Sherry felt that we would have for sure found Takano the night before, and I was getting very scared at this time; Takano had never run off like this before. This was just not in his nature. It was becoming quite obvious that Takano had been completely terrified by this experience, and was just too overwhelmed and frightened to make his way back to where the truck was parked. With much trepidation, but with a growing sense of desperation, Sherry and I decided that we would use lots of fluorescent orange marking tape/ribbon, and tie a number of strips of this hunters orange ribbon to the dog's harnesses. We needed an extra resource in using the three furry kids in helping us find Takano when we went back that afternoon.

Making sure to keep the kids on the leash until we arrived back at the spot where Takano ran off up the side of the mountain, we let the kids off the leash and encouraged them to go find Takano. Sherry, Sioux, Robert, the three furry kids and I all went trudging up the mountain, looking for any clues as to what had happened to Takano. We searched for any blood trails, any tufts of hair, perhaps Takano had bedded down with a mortal wound, or maybe he was just so severely hurt he couldn't move. After searching up and down the mountain that afternoon, we were once again stymied as to where Takano might be, and if he might be OK, wounded or already dead. Sasha, Katrina and Montana were quite the site with their beautiful orange ribbons streaming out in a number of areas from their harnesses. They never seemed to realize what we were about up on that mountain; catching the scent trail of a deer and showing much excitement and interest in that, but never really pursuing any scents or scent trails Takano might have left. Once again we all headed back to our vehicles empty handed.

On Monday morning, I called the Fish and Game and talked to a game warden. He informed me that there really was not much he could do because the Fish, Game and Wildlife office mainly focuses on people shooting illegal game, or dogs chasing big game. He suggested I call the Sheriff's office. I called a deputy that a friend recommended that I might call to report the hunter shooting Takano. The deputy sheriff I talked to was not very helpful. He made some comments alluding to how scared he would be if he had four large strange dog running in his direction. He ended up calling 911 after I talked to him, and he made the initial report of what happened with Takano. A detective called back and left a message informing me that I would have to make a report on the incident with him. I was not able to get back to the Sheriff's detective right away, and after contemplating about whether or not I would follow up with the detective in filing my report, I decided that making a report and possibly having the idiot charged with shooting Takano was not going to bring Takano back. So, I decided not to follow through.

Monday evening I got off work and in my good dress clothes, drove back up to the lower end of Deer Creek and walked up to the area where Takano was shot. By this time the deer and other wildlife in the area had to have formed the conclusion that there were some very strange people walking around their home yelling and whistling for this critter named "Takano." Knowing that there was an additional three weeks of hunting season left, and with that area highly concentrated with hunters, only added more fear and trepidation in both Sherry and myself.

On Tuesday I just could not sit at work and not be doing anything in searching more for Takano, so asked my supervisor if I could have the afternoon off the following day, Wednesday, November 13, so I could hike up further up the mountain and complete an even more extensive search for Takano. My supervisor encouraged me to go ahead and take the whole day off. I even headed over to Montana Blueprint and bought a topographical map of the area, and drove out to Hamilton that evening, to have our friend Michael, who is a dowser, dowse the map for us. He seemed to be confident that the area he was getting a strong indication of where Takano would be, would be the area most probable of where I would find Takano. With my hopes up, but making sure I didn't get them up too high, I drove home late that evening from Hamilton, concerned with how cold it was that evening.

Wednesday morning, November 13, was cold and overcast when I woke up. I ended up walking all over that mountain that day. Let's just say, I became much more familiar with that mountain than I ever have been in the seven years I have been hiking that mountain. I hiked all the way back to the Pattee Canyon Recreation area, headed up to the navigation beacon atop of the back side of Mt. Sentinel, headed back down to the recreation area, back up on the south east side of the top of the mountain, and again heading back down to the recreation area, hoping that Takano would be in that area. I found no signs of Takano, no tracks, nothing to indicate he had been in the area. It is possible that he had been there, I just didn't happen upon any of his tracks. I left pieces of dog biscuits along the logging road in various spots that I hiked along to get back to the recreation area, hoping to let Takano know we were out there looking for him, and for him not to give up hope. The hunters I spotted along my trek that day must have been unhappy with my yelling Takano's name and whistling for him, but by this time, that was not an issue for me. It was because of an ignorant and irresponsible hunter I was out there looking for the precious Takano.

It was getting later on into the afternoon as I began to make my way back to the lower end of Deer Creek where I had parked my truck just above where the Milltown Dam sits, and the location where Takano was shot at. The sun was coming out at that time, I had just gotten a bit drenched with a short heavy rainfall as I watched those dark, gray clouds part, revealing some of that pristine blue sky that we Montanan's love so much. I was awestruck as I looked ahead of me to see one of the most intensely beautiful rainbows I have ever seen form in front of me. What had me in so much awe, was that one end of the rainbow was touching down upon right where Takano had been shot at. My heart began to race, and my pace quickened. My brain started playing those tricks one's brain generally does in stressful situations. My thoughts varied from, ‘Takano is right in that location, laying hidden from the hunters, wounded, and the end of the rainbow is leading me to him.' to ‘Maybe Takano is at the end of that rainbow, but he is dead, and this is God's way of helping us bring closure to his death.' Trying not to go too fast, I ended up hurrying over to that spot, only to find that Takano was not where I had hoped he would be at the end of that beautiful rainbow. My heart sank a bit. No, my heart sank a great deal.

Tired, worried, scared and ever so fearful of what might have happened to Takano, I begrudgingly walked back to my truck and drove up to the Pattee Canyon Recreation area. Michael felt that if I did not find Takano earlier in the day, he would be closer to the Pattee Canyon Recreation area that evening. Arriving at the recreation area, I parked and walked down into the picnic area, calling and whistling for Takano, as the day drew to darkness. As I stood there in the cold I heard the yips of a coyote, then a second coyote. They were only 1/4 to ˝ a mile away from where I stood. I listened as the coyotes worked up into a frenzy and the whole pack of about six or seven broke into a chorus of howls. That was not a pleasant sound. Takano could hold his own with one coyote, but with a pack of six or seven coyotes it would be a different story. My heart sank deeper as I listened to the coyotes working into a frenzy. They had found some prey and were enjoying the kill before they finished their job.

Driving home, I knew I had to call Sherry. She was at a workshop she had been planning on attending for months, and I called her with a heavy heart that evening with news that I was not successful in finding Takano. Having Michael dowse the night before seemed to find him quite confident I would be successful in finding Takano that day, which reminded Sherry and I that getting our hopes up was dangerous in some ways. I called Sherry with my news, ate dinner and lounged with the furry children, looking to them for some comfort in those dark hours.

On Thursday morning I woke up, fetched the newspaper, showered and sat down to eat my breakfast and read the paper. My heart sank as I opened the paper to the front page. On the front page was a picture of that beautiful rainbow I had seen the day before, and was also seen in Missoula. The caption read "The End of the Rainbow." My heart sank to an all new low. I interpreted that picture and caption to read that this was the end of the rainbow for Takano. He would never be coming back. Tears welled up and I choked them back. Yes, my heart was definitely aching at this moment, but there was a part of me that still would not give up. Still, I stared at that picture and the caption for a long time, stunned at it being in the paper and being such a powerful part of my day on the mountain looking for Mr. Takano less than twenty four hours earlier.

The rest of the week unfolded finding me heading up Deer Creek each night I got off work, hoping and praying that I might catch a glimpse of Takano. On Sunday I headed back up the mountain for a walk to the upper parts of the mountain and its logging roads, and had decided to bring one of my higher keyed Native American flutes. I thought that this was a sound he was familiar with as I play a lot of the flute, and with a higher keyed flute I felt that the sound would carry further along the mountain and canyon. Again, I purposely set my intent in not allowing my hopes to get too high, but to also not be giving in to that fear and worry that perhaps he was not alive, or perhaps he was mortally wounded laying somewhere in solitude.

I hiked up the side of the mountain, stopping at various switchbacks to play my flute out over the tree line below me and up toward the tree line above me. I could hear the echo of the flute coming back at me, which indicated that the sound was carrying quite far. Surely Takano should be hearing the flute and trying to find me. I hiked up even further up the side of the mountain to not quite two thirds of the way up the mountain. I followed the logging road north-west, only to discover a tremendous amount of both deer and elk droppings along the road. I played my flute at various junctures, turned and walked back to where I hiked up to the logging road from below and followed it south-east. After hiking further back into the Deer Creek canyon along that road, I turned and walked slowly back, calling and whistling for Takano. Just as I was about ready to head down the side of the mountain from the logging road I was hiking upon, I looked ahead of me to see a hunter rounding the corner. I stopped and said hello and asked if he had seen a lost dog anywhere while he had been hunting. He grew a bit excited and recounted how he had seen a dog alone on a logging road located below from where we were standing. He shared that he saw this dog the week prior, the day after Takano had been shot at. From the story he shared with me, it was Sunday morning and he and a hunting partner were just coming up onto a logging road which was close to where Takano was shot at and the two of them looked down the logging road to see Takano (the hunter saw Takano's poster as he left his truck to go hunting the day I was talking to him) on the logging road walking toward them. Once Takano saw the hunters, he turned and trotted away. The hunter said that he could see that Takano had a limp and indicated he felt that Takano was limping on his hind leg. My heart started to race and I thanked him for sharing that information with me and encouraged him to call the number that is on the poster I had stapled to the gate posts at a few locations along Deer Creek road. I hiked down to the lower road the hunter had described and hiked back about two miles in that area. I was not able to find anything indicating Takano had been in that section of the logging road. Frustration began to acquire a new meaning to me at this point.

The second week came to end very much like the first, but the later part of Saturday brought a welcome surprise. Sherry and I were out looking for Takano when a gentleman by the name of Gene who lives up Deer Creek Road, called and left a message telling us that he just finally noticed the lost dog poster of Takano I had stapled to a tree near his home. Gene had been driving to work early Friday morning, at about 5:30, when he saw a dog running across the road down at the bottom of Deer Creek road, just up the road a bit from the Deer Creek rifle range. He didn't think much about it until he was pulling into his driveway that following day on Saturday when he saw the poster I had put up. Looking at the poster affirmed to him that the dog he saw was Takano. I called Gene back after checking the message and clarified where he had seen Takano, and Sherry and I got into our truck and drove back up Deer Creek to where Gene had seen Takano. We walked, we called, we listened, we called and whistled some more, still no Takano. As these individuals were coming forward to inform Sherry and I of reports of having seen an animal of which they were fairly certain that they had seen Takano was good news, yet it would also be heart breaking as Sherry and I would frantically search these areas he was seen, to no avail. The despair we felt cut through to our core.

That evening we attended a banquet involved with my job. Sherry and I talked to a friend and her significant other, who shared with us how he had been in a park one day and his dog ended up missing. He left his shirt in the area he last saw the dog the following day, and the day after he had left the shirt he returned to find his dog laying on his shirt waiting for him. Following that suggestion I picked out two of my shirts and left one shirt on the lower portion of the mountain, close to where Takano was shot at. I left a second shirt and a bag of dry kibble further up the mountain on the logging road in the area where the hunter whom I had met on top of the mountain who had seen Takano the day after he was shot at. I began to notice that the dog biscuits that I was leaving along various parts of the logging roads were missing. Could Takano be eating them? A coyote perhaps? And then the good ol' brain steps in and throwing a wrench into what little ration and logic I had left in suggesting to myself that maybe someone's dog that was walking with their owner was treating themselves to free dog biscuits. Oh, how my heart was aching to see Takano again, to give him a big hug, to see that incredibly beautiful smile he would radiate ever so powerfully; to hear that whine he would make, intermixed with a cry on those days he would get all worked up waiting impatiently for me to take he and his siblings for a run in the mountains.

After talking with Gene about where he had seen Takano that Friday morning, Sherry and I planned to drive up to the area Gene had seen Takano around 4:30 the next morning. This area was located adjacent to a horse pasture on the lower portion of Deer Creek Road. We felt that Takano was most likely coming out later in the evening and the early morning hours so he could look for food and avoid running into any of the large number of hunters that were still saturating that area. We woke up at 4:00 a.m. and drove up to that area and parked our vehicle. Now not only the deer and local residents of the wildlife community felt that this strange man who keeps yelling "Takano" followed by several loud and shrill whistles, but Sherry was also joining me at 4:30 in the morning, calling and whistling for Takano. Of which the horses in the horse pasture must have concurred fully with the local wildlife that we were definitely bona fide nuts.

During this time of insanity of trying to find Takano, all of the hiking, driving, sitting and all around searching, Sherry and I contacted Keek Mensing and Deb Jones, who are animal communicators we wanted to get feedback from on what they felt was going on with Takano, whether they could determine if he was still alive, and if so if he was wounded or not. Again, I began to go through the agonizing experience of talking with both Keek and Deb, who both informed Sherry and I that Takano was in fact still alive, and that he was wounded, but not mortally. I was able to talk with Keek and Deb in trying to get some sense where Takano might be at, in the hopes of focusing on the area they were getting the sense he was located in. Moving into the third week of Takano being lost, Sherry was able to talk with Deb in helping communicate with Takano that we were placing dog kibble in a small sandwich bag down by the horse pasture he was seen the week prior, and for Takano to look in that area for the food. In that conversation, Deb shared with Sherry that she kept coming up with the number six. She wasn't sure if that meant six weeks, or six months, but six was something that kept coming up with her while talking with Sherry. Though it was frustrating in working with both Keek and Deb, both were able to bring some semblance of sanity and serenity into my life during this insane nightmare both Sherry and I were going through. I truly never want to experience those feelings again.

A week after Gene had seen Takano, which fell three days after Sherry's conversation with Deb, I headed up to the area by the horse pasture. It was Saturday, November 23. I went up above the horse pasture and played my high E flute and froze my tush off. Man, was it cold. No Takano. Just prior to hiking along the mountainside, just above the horse pasture , I checked the bag of dog kibble that I had placed right next to the horse pasture. Sure enough, the food had been eaten. I felt my heart beating harder; it would seem that Deb was able to convey to Takano where that food was located, as nothing had touched it until after the phone conversation. I had been checking the food during the evenings as I would drive up in that area after work, looking for Takano. After checking his food, I played my flute and waited for quite some time, in the hopes that Takano would have the time to get down the mountain to where I was looking for him. At that point, I opted to hike back up toward the area where was Takano shot at, and once again I did not find Takano. I walked back to my truck, and as I was driving back home, Sherry was driving up in her vehicle; she had just received a phone call from a young man who had been parked under the underpass of the interstate on Deer Creek Road just the evening prior. The young man shared with Sherry that he and his friends had seen a dog they were fairly certain was Takano. He ran away from the young man heading back toward Deer Creek and more or less toward Milltown Dam. Sherry and I searched the field that runs parallel to the river there. No tracks, no signs of Takano. At that point, desperate, I called Keek who lives in Missoula. She decided that she would drive out and meet Sherry and I in an attempt to get a better perspective of the area that Takano was lost in, in helping her get a better idea of what that area actually looked like.

Keek's sense of where Takano was at was on the north facing side of the mountain, that runs parallel to Interstate 90. After Keek and I hiked up in the area she felt he was most likely located, Sherry and I headed home, ate some lunch and then headed back to the area Keek was suggesting we take the three furry kids up in that area and see if we can coax Takano to come to us as we were hiking along one of the lower logging roads. We sure made a racket in calling and whistling for Takano. I even took the furry kids along an upper logging road that was above where Keek had suggested we concentrate our efforts. I then had the kids hike down the side of the mountain with me into the area where we were hoping to find Takano. Sigh. Still no Takano.

Given this was the third week of Takano having been missing, I began to notice myself growing more frustrated, feeling more powerless, feeling absolutely helpless that no matter what I was trying, no matter how creative I was becoming with possible ways in which to find Takano, nothing seemed to be working. Other people were seeing what they thought to be was Takano, but in all the times I had been up in that area; driving; walking after work; hiking on any given day I had a chance; as well as Sherry joining me on many of our attempts in finding Takano: we just were not finding ourselves there at the right spot at the right time in finding Takano. There was a part of me that was realizing and coming to the understanding that I had to begin to let go of the reality that Takano very well may not be coming home. Takano could very well possibly be dead. For all I knew, these individuals who were seeing Takano could be seeing another animal that in their well intentioned high hopes were trying to persuade themselves into thinking that this dog they were seeing was Takano.

Sherry was very sweet and quite supportive of me during these times. I had already posted posters at all the access gates along the mountain that are located along Deer Creek Road. I had placed a number of posters along the upper valley of Deer Creek near individual homes that are interspersed along the canyon's floor, and I had even placed some posters in the Pattee Canyon Recreation area. I had already been up and down that mountain and diligently searched all of the logging roads across the entire mountain, several times over. I had been calling, whistling, and even using my flutes. Oh so many different approaches in trying to find our sweet, beautiful Takano. Sherry could see my frustration and most certainly sense my frustration and she would make suggestions that perhaps we could go to each home along Deer Creek Road and personally talk to the owners and handing out the posters to them individually. She made this suggestion as well as others in her kind and gentle way of letting me know that I had already done everything within my power and I was continuing to go above and beyond any of my means in trying to find Takano. It sank in each time she gently would recommend these additional things that I really needed to accept I was doing my very best to find Takano, and that is the most I could hope and expect out of myself. There really was nothing more I could do, nor Sherry could do, in finding and bringing Takano home.

At this point, I forced myself into doing something that proved to be absolutely heart wrenching, but I knew I had to do this, lest I torment myself for possibly the rest of my life if I didn't do so. During these past three weeks, I was calling both radio stations in my community, requesting that they rebroadcast the announcement on the radio about Takano's situation, and where he was last seen.I placed ads in the paper and I was also calling the Humane Society and Animal Control on Monday or Tuesday, then following up on Thursday of that same week, asking if they had received any reports of a dog that could possibly be Takano, or if they had an animal similar to Takano's description brought in. To this date, neither of them had heard anything. Knowing myself well enough, I knew I had to visit both the Humane Society and Animal Control in person, just to make sure that Takano was not there. Walking through the area they kenneled the lost and abandoned dogs in both of these facilities ripped at my heart and brought tears to my eyes. Both of these facilities are top notch in how they care for their animals, they had clean water, clean kennels, food in their bowls, and every dog had a toy to play with. The numerous sad eyes that cut through to the heart of my soul that day will never be forgotten. Puppies, middle aged dogs, and older dogs alike; each was so hard to look at. I had to talk to each dog and puppy, letting them know how hard it was for me not to take them all home. I knew it would be hard walking by each kennel, making sure that Takano had not been brought in, but I had no idea it would impact me so deeply and intensely. As I drove home after that experience, I began to acknowledge that my heart had been sinking further and further, but knew I could not just give up on Takano.

After experiencing the numerous ups and downs of the first three weeks of Takano being missing, the next three weeks proved to be just as difficult, but in different ways. Each morning as I drive to work on the interstate, I can look up into the area of Deer Creek where Takano was shot at from the interstate. As I drove along that section of the interstate, I would take moments to look up in that area as I drove and I would ask God to look out after Takano, to keep him safe, as well as saying a prayer to the mountain, to help watch over him and keep him safe. There were many mornings when it was quite cold out, and there had been some snow the night before. Other mornings there would be a cold rain coming down and looking up onto the mountain and up into Deer Creek canyon, my heart would ache knowing Takano might be out there, and not knowing if Takano was alive and if so wondering how he was faring in this weather, with no food, other than the occasional gut pile left from the deer hunters. At least after December 1 had come and gone, I knew Takano didn't have to worry, for the most part, about the hunters anymore. I still was concerned about the numerous individuals who love to target shoot up in that area, as well as the individual or individuals who might take it upon themselves to shoot Takano, just for the sake of shooting something alive. Add to that the worry that Takano had been seen both times by people who had been driving along Deer Creek Road. There are quite a few people who drive that dirt road as though it is a county highway. On talking with Sherry, we both realized that we both were agonizing each time either of the two of us would be driving home from our jobs in the later afternoon, and often times we would look up into the canyon Takano was lost, wondering where he might be, and worried if he was OK or not.

I will never forget the dreary snowy afternoon that I had taken Montana along with me as I hiked back into Deer Creek canyon, checking on the kibble and the second shirt I had placed further up into the canyon. I had Montana wearing his colorful harness with the fluorescent orange streamers of ribbon, and he seemed to be more serious and intent in helping me find Takano, given he was alone with me, as opposed to having both of his sisters, Katrina and Sasha along with us. As we were hiking down the mountain after discovering nothing had touched the dog kibble, we stopped to wait and listen to see if perhaps Takano would appear out of somewhere, anywhere. We stood there with a light snow falling down around us, and Montana began to whine, ever so softly. He could sense the urgency in himself as well as myself, sensing both our desire and desperation to find our lost Takano. His whine grew into the most eerie, heart wrenching soft howl I have ever heard any animal emit. The depth of the sadness, the forlorn emotion that wrapped itself into that ever so soft whine that was coming out as a howl, brought tears to my eyes. I crouched down and pulled Montana into my arms and held him ever so tightly. We both were missing Takano so much.

The final two weeks of Takano being gone, my spirit remained hopeful, but again, I was beginning to realize and take those slow steps toward accepting that Takano just may never come home. With the hunting season over, I was now taking all of the furry kids with me, in the hopes of them helping me find Takano. I would take all three of them up with me up to the "upper shirt" as I would call it, being ever mindful of calling them back to me as we neared the bag of kibble and the shirt, for fear they might track their paw prints over Takano's paw prints, given he had visited the food since I last had been up there. The range of emotions that rushed through me as I would round the bend in the logging road, see the fallen tree I had placed the shirt and food alongside of and then walking up to the actual bag of kibble wondering if anything had eaten it, was so intense. There were many times I would walk up to that bag of kibble and my heart would just sink to the bottom as I could see that nothing had touched it since the last time I had been up there. I would look again, feeling the denial coursing through me, but hoping, ever so hoping, maybe Takano, maybe something had eaten some of the food. Not the case. I would walk around ever so observant, looking for any signs of tracks, hair, anything that might indicate Takano had been in the area. Often times I would find other dog tracks; from the various mountain bikers and hikers who would bring their dog along with them on their excursions. That feeling in the pit of my stomach as I would walk around looking for something, anything to help ease the pain of not knowing where Takano was, or if he was even was alive, was truly nightmarish. Feeling powerless can be so intense, and in regards to Takano being gone for over four weeks now was really giving me the epitome of experiences of what being powerless is all about.

On Saturday, December 21, 2003 Sherry and I were watching a video that evening when we received a phone call from a wonderful woman, Carrie. Carrie first came into our life when she called shortly after we had placed Takano's"Lost Dog"posters up along Deer Creek Road. She had first called us right after we had first put up the posters, and shared that she had seen an animal that had been hit and killed and was laying alongside of the road, and was going to drive back to that spot to make sure it wasn't Takano, or if it was a deer. Carrie drives up and down Deer Creek Road often, and is a caring soul who picks up the tremendous amount of trash alongside that road; beer cans, bottles, cardboard beer containers and the like. It was just after eight o'clock in the evening when the phone rang. Carrie was calling with her cell phone and had just seen a dog running along side of the road, right in the same area that Takano had been shot at. She expressed she didn't want to get our hopes up and having them dashed if it turned out that the dog we saw wasn't Takano, given that he had been missing for six weeks at this time. But, she went on to say that she was fairly certain that the dog she saw was Takano. She didn't put two and two together until after she had driven by him, and by the time she turned her car around and drove back to the spot where she had last seen Takano, he was gone. I had her describe exactly where she had seen him, and Sherry and I put our shoes on and drove up to that area.

Carrie had seen Takano right at the gate I usually park at when I take the kids for their run. We arrived there no more than forty minutes after Carrie had seen Takano. Sherry and I walked along the old logging road that runs along the base of the mountain, calling, whistling and shining our flash lights every where we could. We looked for Takano for about an hour; our hearts sinking as we walked back to the truck, yet once again without our precious Takano. As I drove home, I was thinking about Sherry's phone conversation with Deb Jones, and how she made such a point about the number six. Six weeks? Six months? What did that mean?

The next day, Sunday afternoon, December 22, 2003, six weeks and one day after Takano was shot, I loaded the three furry critters, Montana, Sasha and Katrina up into the truck. We headed up to the area where Carrie thought she saw Takano that evening prior, and we hiked back to the upper shirt, hoping to find the food left for Takano nibbled on, eaten, or anything that would indicate maybe he had been there. Sasha and Montana had a blast running this way and that, checking this scent out and yet another. Katrina would find a scent, leading the other two off on a tangent, tracking down whatever that scent alluded to be. All the way up the logging road heading back to the shirt and kibble, I was calling as I had been for the past six weeks. I would whistle every three minutes or so, and call again.

As we rounded the bend in the road that held the fallen tree, the shirt and the kibble, I felt that familiar anxiety and tension course through me. I called Sasha back, making sure she didn't disturb any possible tracks in the fresh snow that we had received the night before. With that hope and dread all wrapped up into one enormous pounding in my chest, I walked up carefully to the bag of kibble. I could see there were no tracks around the kibble as well as realizing nothing had touched or disturbed the kibble. I turned around immediately and started walking back toward the truck. I knew I had to let it go, lest I stay and pace around the area looking, searching, hoping, and bordering into magical thinking; the maybe, just maybe I will see or find something that would assure me Takano had been there recently and that he was alive. I had to let go of the nightmare I was putting myself through each time I would check that shirt and bag of kibble. I had to let go that maybe the dog that Carrie had seen the night before, was as she has suggested in our phone conversation, possibly a dog that actually lives in that neighborhood. I had to let go of that continual torment and anguish of searching and wondering where Takano was. As much as my heart rebelled, I had to let it go.

I called the kids back and we started walking back to the truck. I did my best to think of other things, try to take in the beauty of the mountain, the pine trees, and the new blanket of snow. I decided that I wasn't going to call and whistle for Takano on the way back to the truck. I truly had to let go. Twenty minutes later, the three kids and I crossed paths with a couple who were walking up the road as we were headed down. I said hello and continued on past them. Five minutes after passing the couple, the kids and I started our gentle ascent down the logging road to where the truck was parked. We were perhaps ten minutes away from the truck. I was engrossed in watching Montana and Sasha, who were leading Katrina this way and that. I was making sure they were close enough to me, should we come upon other people hiking or riding their mountain bikes. I was watching the three kids ahead of me, perhaps one hundreds yards away, when out of the blue, without a sound, Takano comes trotting up from behind me and around to the front of me. I looked down in shock, taking in within a nano second that no, this is not Montana in front of me, nor is it Sasha or Katrina, it is Takano! I basically went into shock during that first ten minutes. Here I have Takano standing in front of me, who is just beyond himself to see me, very excited, whining, crying, and I am taking this whole scene all in within nano seconds. Here I have Takano standing there next to me, he is quivering and shaking in nervous excitement and my brain is trying to tell me that this all had to be a dream. It can't be real. It's Takano! I am so excited to see him, and at the same time shocked to see Takano who 6 weeks prior had an incredible physique; 100 pounds of well toned muscles, and he is now down to basically skin and bones. I could see all of his ribs; his spine was easily visible from his shoulders all the way back to his hips, and I could even see the bone structure of his hip bones. He was literally skin and bones, looking reminiscent of an Auschwitz survivor.

This all occurred within a matter of seconds as I knelt down on the ground and wrapped my arms around Takano pulling him close to me. "Takano! Oh my sweet Takano, it is you! It is really you. Oh my, God. Oh, my God. Thank you God! Thank you God, thank you so very much!" That was basically all I could say. I literally was in shock as I pulled Takano close as he stood there trembling in my arms. By this time Sasha, Montana and Katrina were aware of what was happening and had run back to greet Takano. Sherry and I had worried that they would be rough with Takano, if and when he came home, letting him know that he had been out of the pack for far too long, and that Takano was in big trouble with them for scaring us all for those excruciating six weeks. None of that happened. They were certainly excited to see Takano, and more or less mobbed him, but there wasn't much posturing or any defensiveness exhibited at all.

I continued holding Takano, fully aware that the pungent odor wafting off of him indicated thathe had been rolling in dead fish, but I did not care. I kept talking to Takano, repeating myself; "Takano, it's you. It is really you. Thank you God, thank you so very much! My sweet boy, it is really you!" I had two dog leashes that I had clipped together, hanging from around my neck. I knew the next plan of action was to get a leash on Takano and head back to the truck. My hands were shaking so much, and my brain was going through such a dizzying shock, it literally took me about five minutes to simply unhook the one dog leash from the end I had secured it to, and attach it to Takano's collar. All the while I am absolutely amazed at how much weight he had lost. It was amazing he was still alive, much less able to run around as he had been. It was such a shock to see his ribs protruding from his chest and torso and see such a pronounced definition of his spine along his back. Once I had the leash on him, I began to look at Takano's left front leg. I could see that he was limping on it as he trotted around the front of me when he first found me. It was grotesquely swollen, but no noticeable surface wounds. I knew Takano would be going to see our veterinarian, Sandy Moore, that afternoon.

It was around 2:30 in the afternoon when this all transpired. With a tremendous amount of excitement and elation, I started heading down the logging road, my beautiful boy Takano on his leash and his brother and sisters walking and trotting along with us. Still feeling the shock, I talked to Takano and his siblings all the way back to the truck. I was concerned with allowing Takano in the back of the truck in the camper shell, given the confined space my truck provides, might be too much for Takano just reuniting with his brother and sisters, so I had him ride up front with me. On the drive home, I decided to surprise Sherry with the news ofTakano finding me. I did not find Takano. He most assuredly found me! My plan was to pull into the garage, keep Takano in the cab of the truck, and let the other kids out and into the back yard and then surprise Sherry with the news.

I did all of this and walked into the house as calmly as I could. Sherry was in the bathroom taking a bath. I knocked on the door and walked in and asked her calmly; "What would be the best Christmas present you could ever get?" She paused for awhile and then replied, ‘You are kidding me, right?' "No. So, what would be the best Christmas present you could ever hope to get?" Sherry replied, ‘Takano coming home, but you are pulling my leg, right?' "Nope, Takano is sitting in the cab of my truck as we speak!" ‘Oh my God, give me a minute and I will be out' Sherry replied. Sherry dried off quickly and came out to greet Takano. They both were so happy to see each other. Like myself, Sherry didn't mind the pungent fish smell on Takano, she just was so happy to see our Takano finally home! We let Takano go outside with his siblings, at which point Montana let him know that he was most assuredly still the boss as well as emphasizing that he too was very upset with how long his brother (the two are litter mates and have been especially close from the day we brought them home as puppies) was gone. Montana growled and postured, making sure that Takano knew that he was the boss and now that Takano was home, Montana was clarifying what was what.

I called our veterinarian, Sandy Moore, knowing it would have to be an emergency call to see her. I left a message with her answering service and Sandy called back within twenty minutes and told me to meet her at the clinic in half an hour. Sherry and I loaded Takano into the truck and drove into town. We both were just so ecstatic as we drove into town, realizing that Mr. Takano (one of my nicknames I call him) was actually in the back of the truck and we were going to have Sandy take care of him. That leg looked really swollen and badly infected.

Sandy met us at the clinic and we took Takano inside. She shaved his leg around his elbow and she decided that the best plan of action would be to place him on antibiotics and see what happens to the leg before we went any further. Sandy was also taken aback at how long Takano had been out there, and what a trooper he was to have stayed alive all that while. As we were preparing to take Takano home, Sherry and I asked Sandy how she wanted to handle the bill for the emergency call and the expensive antibiotics she was placing Takano on. Sandy replied, "There is no charge, this is a Christmas present." Sherry and I were wowed by that gesture. I found out later that the medication alone was $60.00. I can only imagine that the emergency call in addition to the medication would have added up to an expensive visit. Of which we would have been more than happy to pay for. Takano and his siblings are priceless to Sherry and I. Sandy's gesture on that incredible day truly warmed my heart, of which was already overflowing with gratitude, feeling blessed, full of love and feeling absolutely overwhelmed by the miracle that Sherry and I were going through. I had known Sandy from before I married Sherry, with Sandy caring for my dogs for many years. Sandy has always been so wonderful with my dogs, and she still is. That is quite a comfort to know your family members, (I have never cared for the term "pets"), will be given the best in care.

I will never forget December 22, 2003 for as long as I live. Sherry and I were blessed with one very powerful miracle. Having Takano find me just three days before Christmas was truly a Christmas miracle. Having him home safe with Sherry, his three furry siblings and I for Christmas was the best Christmas present I could ever hope for. I was so in awe of the whole experience, (I still am) I realized that Takano's staying alive for six weeks, avoiding all of those hunters (one day I stumbled upon seven hunters within twenty minutes as I was walking and driving up in that area looking for Takano) avoiding the other wildlife; coyotes, mountain lions, and perhaps a bear or two and he managed to stay alive. Little did Sherry and I realize that after our initial visit with Sandy was just a part of the beginning of the picture of which was being painted that drove home the impact of the immensity of Takano's miracle.

Takano weighed just 65 pounds that incredible day he found me December 22, 2002. The day he was shot, he weighed at least 100 pounds, of which was all muscle. One thing that kept Takano alive all that time was his physical fitness. He was in top shape the day he was shot. In six weeks he dropped 35 pounds, which is a tremendous amount for a dog his size. The wound on Takano's leg and elbow reacted well to the antibiotics, the elbow and leg lost a good deal of the swelling, but the leg began to ooze blood at times, causing concern in Sherry and I. His limp did not get better, he always seemed to be in discomfort. We called Sandy and expressed our concerns and we scheduled an appointment to have her exam Takano again.

The appointment was on a Monday, two weeks after Sandy first examined Takano. I took Takano in myself, and Sandy had an X-Ray taken. Ten minutes later, Sandy came back out to the waiting room and asked me to come take a look at his X-Ray. With a note of bewilderment in her voice, she showed me the X-Ray of Takano's leg. She said that no wonder Takano was still in pain, he has a bullet in his leg. Not only that, but Takano had a spiral fracture along his leg just below the bullet. I stared in bewilderment as I took in the size of the bullet lodged into his bone, just below the joint of his elbow. Not only was Takano running around in the mountains with a bullet in his leg for six weeks with hunters galore all over the place for three of those weeks, he also had a nasty spiral fracture in his leg to boot. Sandy was amazed at how his fracture had already begun to mend itself. She wasn't sure if it would be necessary to remove the bullet or not, but told me that she has a colleague who specializes in these types of injuries and she wanted to send him the X-Rays to get his feedback on the matter. I was stunned yet again at how incredible this miracle with Takano was beginning to grow bigger in its immensity. Six weeks with a large caliber hunting rifle's bullet in his leg combined with a spiral fracture, of which are extremely painful. How did he do it? The will to live, the spirit that lives within Takano was being expressed in ways that still leaves me to this day in awe and spellbound.

At this point in time that I am now finally able to sit down to begin to write this story. It is now five weeks out from Takano's surgery. It has been an incredibly busy and chaotic time for Takano, Sherry and myself, once Takano came home. Sandy called over five weeks ago to inform Sherry and I that her colleague, Dr. Mark Albrecht, had examined the X-Rays and determined it was absolutely necessary to remove the bullet. We scheduled the surgery for Takano, with Sandy reassuring both Sherry and I that she would be assisting Dr. Albrecht, making sure that Takano was given the best in care, before, during and after the surgery. Mark wanted to meet with Sherry and I in person, to explain his rationale in electing to move ahead with this surgery, and described the process of what was most likely to happen in the surgical procedure.

Takano had a bone graft taken from his back left hip which was used to place over the wound of the leg bone, in which the bullet had lodged itself in. The surgery was a success, and Takano came home with his left front leg wrapped from his shoulder down to his paw in a thick gauze, keeping his leg straight and the surgery site clean and dry. His left back hip was shaved bald, with an eight inch incision where they took the bone graft from. Takano was not to run on that leg until this weekend, making it five weeks post surgery. I was only able to run Sasha, Montana and Katrina once in the last five weeks, as it just proved to be too hard on Takano, having to leave him home while his brother and sisters got to go off into the kid's beloved mountains to run. During the weeks I was not able to run Takano, I would take the kids for drives around the area. Though it was nothing like being out walking and running in their element, they still loved the sights and sounds as we drove around.

I have since found an area much further away from Missoula, that affords my furry children their beautiful mountains to run in, and less of a chance to be shot at by some idiot. I will be forever keenly aware of any future potentially dangerous areas for the kids. On Saturday, March 8, 2003, Takano was able to finally run once again after his surgery. It was snowing like crazy, during the time Missoula and the surrounding area was getting hit by late winter snows. All four of the kids were beyond themselves, they were out in the environment that they most identify with. It was one of Montana's trademark snow storms; those incredibly beautiful storms; huge white snow flakes were falling everywhere. The pine trees as well as all the cottonwoods along the river bottom were heavily blanketed with snow. The kids ran up the new found logging road and back down the road, smelling all of the wonderful smells and keying in on some critter's burrow in a snow bank. Of which their intense and alert behaviors all told me that the critter must be deeper inside; they did not want to leave that burrow!

As Takano and his siblings were running and miling about, he had such a beautiful smile on his face as well as in his entire body language. His brother and sisters were also happy as could be that their brother was finally healthy enough to run with them again. They are truly a family, and when there was only the three of them, they sensed that they were not complete. Now that Takano was back together with his family, they are complete once again.

Takano has always taught me to live in the present. To live in the now. Prior to his being shot, each and every time I would take the kids for their run in the mountains, Takano was so excited, so pumped up. He would run out toward the truck, then he would come streaking back to where I was as I walked around the yard to the garage. With a huge smile on his face, he would race toward me, and then turn and tear back to the truck, repeating this behavior over and over again until I had them all loaded up into the back of the truck. His eyes and face were always just so alive as he did this. I call this behavior the "rips". Those times would tell me that to Takano, nothing else matters in the world. It doesn't matter how stressed out one might be, it does not matter how depressed or how worried one is caught up in, it doesn't matter if bills need to be paid, or whatever heavy stressor might be weighing on an individual. What matters is what is happening in the now. Live in the now, Dave. Takano exemplified that each and every time we went for his run with his siblings.

With time Takano will be fit to go for longer runs into the mountains. By summer I feel he will be back to normal, as normal as he can be given the injuries he substained. Knowing Takano, he might have a limp from time to time, but that will not stop him, nor slow him down. He has shown, and proven, if you will, that he has such a strong spirit, a spirit that just will not give up; a spirit that fills up the state of Montana and then some. I plan to take my beautiful furry children, and my good friend Robert and take them all up to the top of what I call The Kid's Mountain. It is the mountain Takano was lost on for those six weeks. We have hiked and played on that mountain for the seven years they have been blessing Sherry and myself's life. Our favorite hike is to the top of the mountain, to where a navigation beacon sits just east of Mt. Sentinel. This time we will climb to the navigation beacon, and then along the spine heading west, coming out on to the top of Mt. Sentinel. From there we will hike down to the M that sits just above the University of Montana., and then down to the university itself. It will be a long hike, but I am looking forward to it. It will be one of many celebrations we have been relishing since Takano came home. The kids will be exhausted from this hike, the two humans even more so, but that is what they love the most in life. Running with their pack in the beautiful mountains of Montana.

David R. Fields