Henry Pemberton has an arrogance about him. He will glance over at you and decide in 2.5 seconds if he likes you. If he doesn’t, he will turn his face away and put his nose in the air. Try not to take it personally. He’s earned it with his intelligence, his wisdom and he was born this way. I met Henry when he was 8 weeks old. His big brown eyes spoke to my heart and he liked me. When Henry Pemberton likes you, it is like being admitted into a secret society. You nod to the other accepted members in a language of exclusiveness. Henry ran away on October 1st, 2010. He was 5 years old. I look out my window every morning now 1 year later and hope to see him coming back home. Wondering what I did to make him go and wondering where his journey has taken him.
I am Henry Pemberton. I was born on a rainy Sunday to a Jack Russell Mom and Labrador Dad. They didn’t know each other well and it was a chance encounter I was born. Nonetheless here I am. I am the size of my father with the black, brown and white markings of my mother. I am truly a fabulous specimen of perfection. I had the privilege to live with the Pembertons. A loud family of 5 who love hard but lack the refinement I desire. So, I left to find my destiny… or so I thought my destiny.
On October 1st one year ago today, I ventured off onto an adventure of a lifetime. It had been planned for four months. The places I longed to see mapped out in my mind. How and what I was going to eat planned the best I could. I had been venturing away from the yard and burying provisions further and further away into the farm next door and beyond unbeknownst to Mother and Father Pemberton. They would yell from the deck and call my name and eventually I would show up. Sometimes I was so far away they would shut the door and send one of the Pemberton children out to find me. They would usually get distracted by a bug or a ball in the backyard and soon Mother and Father Pemberton would forget about me and start looking for one of their lost humans.
The first day away I had made it out past the yard and explored the neighboring farm. The cows just ignored my presence and just seemed interested in eating grass. I have never met a more boring animal in my life. The pigs however were extremely friendly. I found our conversations insightful especially when we spoke about how much we both found playing in the mud cooling and relaxing. They did however turn their noses when the conversation turned to food and I spoke of my love of bacon. They kicked me out of their pen which was fine because I lost respect for them when I saw what was in their meal trough. The smell alone was sickening. No wonder they don’t have the refined taste to love bacon. I found chickens to be a bit hysterical and I was annoyed by their lack of hospitality. At the sight of me they just ran into their home sticking their heads out the window every few seconds to see if I had left and making a strange scream like sound. I also found the way they ran a bit ridiculous. They were sticking their necks out trying to get where they were going faster like they were getting an edge at some sort of imaginary finish line. I finally walked away as their anxiety was not worth further investigation. The farm also has a resident farm cat named Rosita. She is gray, white and extremely fat. She and I have met before while I hid my journey’s provisions. I like her and she is well-aware of my adventure plans. I see Rosita sunning herself in the setting sun near the farm’s pond playing with a gray mouse. “Hello Rosita, today is the first day of my adventure.” Rosita lazily releases the mouse’s tail and glances up at me. “Henry Pemberton, you are actually doing this! Wow, impressive. I cannot wait to hear what you have discovered upon your return.” I sit down next to my furry friend and say, “yes, Rosita so far so good. I have learned so much in one day alone. Mostly that I am far too important to be stuck in a house and that farm animals are some of the most boring creatures I have ever encountered.” Rosita cocks her head and says, “farm life isn’t for everyone but for some it’s the perfect place to be.” Rosita invites me to dinner with her and I accept. She is the most intelligent creature I have encountered by far and I am in desperate need of conversation. I dig up my first hidden provision of dry dog food that was buried by the tallest oak tree bordering the farm and Rosita finds some carrots in the farmer’s garden. Then sunset seemed bigger here. The orange and pink hues in the sky seemed more vivid almost like a welcoming home gift to the farmer after a long day. Rosita and I exchange stories about humans. She tells me how the farmer and his wife have longed for children and that the farmer’s wife is finally expecting. I tell her about the chaotic dinners with the Pembertons and that sometimes they forget to feed me after they eat because they are always going somewhere. We curl up with our full bellies and the most amazing sky is lit up with millions of stars and a full moon. I have the best sleep I have had in months. No one stepping on me on way to the bathroom, no one crying for a bedtime snuggle and no one waking up early to go to work. Clearly, Day One of my adventure is a success.
Theday that Henry left waslike any other day. We struggled to get to work and school in a timely manner moving fast through breakfast, bookbags and packed lunches. There was the usual yelling about schedules and chores. We were moving fast and barely getting ourselves where we needed to go. I remember asking Oliver to feed Henry, but I never looked in Henry’s food or water bowl. I shuttled the older children to the bus stop, cleaned up the mess of breakfast and got myself ready for work. Benjamin was dragging his feet that day as he always does, and I remember trying to get him to decide which shirt he was going to wear choosing between dinosaurs and Star Wars. He chose neither and put on a batman costume. We left out the door and I remember looking at Henry’s sad eyes as we left and having a pang of guilt. I looked at hm and said, “goodbye buddy. See you in a couple of hours.” That was it. The last time we saw him. We had installed the doggie door knowing sometimes our days were rushed and he would be home for hours, but we never thought he would run away. When we got home that day and I opened the door, there was no Henry standing there wagging his tail. No Henry barking with excitement. No Henry bringing me his toy as a welcome home present. My heart sank and I could feel panic rise out of me. Deep down I knew he ran away. I couldn’t feel his presence there. The house felt empty. In a useless panic I began to franticly search the house. Perhaps he was trapped in a bedroom with a door shut. An incident that had happened before when we had left the home for the evening children’s practices. He barked deliriously when we entered the house that time. This time, there was just silence.
The distant roosters that occasionally woke me up when I was at home, were loud and mighty on the farm. They began their alarm at 4:30 am and in that moment I decided I liked the roosters as much as the chickens. “Good morning Henry. Sleep well? You woke me up several times with your sleep barking. Did your humans ever speak to your vet about that? It is just plain weird, especially when your eyeballs start rolling inside your closed lids,” Rosita yowls sauntering over in my direction. I groggily glance over at Rosita still waking up and say, “I slept like a newborn puppy until those darn roosters woke me up. I apologize for any sleep interruption you experienced related to my night barking, but it is perfectly normal to dream in your slumber. In fact, I had the most delightful dream last night about flying. I dreamt I could leap into the air and soar across the sky like an eagle. It was so peaceful up there.” Rosita sneers, “well that’s until the airplane’s run into you.” We both smile at each other and I bid her my farewell. I tell her, “see you next time. You are by far my favorite cat ever.” She paws at my face in a loving gesture and purrs, “I will be here my friend.”
That first night without Henry I will never forget. The children saw me frantically searching and yelling for him outside and I said, “Henry is missing. Please help me find him.” They could tell by the panic in my voice that this time it was serious. I saw fear in their eyes once they saw the fear in mine. Jack took Thomas and Mary outside to search for Henry in the yard. Little Oliver just sat on the floor by Henry’s dog bowl with tears rolling down his face. I called my husband and I called Animal Control. Time went by both fast and slow. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears it was beating so fast. I could feel his presence was nowhere near us anymore. I have never felt so helpless. Dan left work and came home to drive around and look for Henry. He was out for hours until the sunset and the stars came out. The children were devastated to find out that Henry was not in Dan’s car when he came home. No one slept that night. The children all slumbered on our bedroom floor taking comfort in each other laying where Henry would sleep every night. Our hearts stayed heavy hoping Henry was safe somewhere.
Walking away from the farm gives me a thrill of emotions. The coolness of the morning air mixed with the warmth from the sun’s rising rays, fills my heart with both hope and fear. I feel the excitement of the independence, the scurry of unknown possibilities, and the heartfelt adventure all laid out in front of me like a blank canvas awaiting my colors. But I also begin to feel a bit homesick and the coolness of the air reminds me I have never been this long away from the Pembertons without returning. For a moment, I think of turning back but I am somehow beckoned out of my sadness by the yellow glow arising from the horizon and the hope of adventure draws me to continue my journey.
My second stash of hidden rations is located 2 miles from the farm on the side of a rural road frequented only by tractors and an occasional cyclist. By the time I get there, my stomach is growling and I’m panting from exhaustion and thirst. I had marked the area with sticks I piled high into a mound by an old oak tree that stood alone. When I find the tree, I do a double take because my mound is missing. There are no sticks in sight and no other trees lining the road. My heart sinks and I begin to cry a panting depressed howl of desperation. I pull myself together and begin to just dig around the tree and I find a barren hole with 3 dog food kernels remaining. Someone had eaten my stash. I look around to see if I can find the thief, a wise squirrel perhaps or a meddling raccoon. However, the only animal in sight is a lone male robin perched on the branch above me singing a morning ballad and I can’t help but think he is mocking me. My hunger pains are now mixed with anger, frustration and desperation. I begin to feel sorry for myself but then I remember that things don’t always go as planned on adventures and that I am a clever dog with the ability to figure this out. Immediately I prioritize my needs. First and foremost, I need water. I remembered passing a stream ½ mile back but decided to take my chances and veer off to the left down the road in hopes of finding something closer ahead. The sun is blazing fully in the sky now and with the heat of the day, my empty stomach and my need for water, I am miserable. It is hard to stay positive, but my mantra continues, “I am Henry Pemberton. I can do this.” After an hour of walking and regretting not back-tracking, I see a glistening creek appear out of nowhere as if it is a mirage. I run with newfound energy and giddiness and leap into the cool refreshing water flying like last night’s dream. I land knee deep and drink heartily the cool refreshing droplets immediately working their magic to recharge my weariness. I feel a new sense of pride and confidence in overcoming my first mishap.
Finding food became my next priority. This problem is a bit more complicated than the last. I had never needed to forage for natural means of nutrition before. I was sure an organic experience was to be expected but I wasn’t planning on it this soon on the journey. Although the Pembertons often forgot to feed me, I have been spoiled with eating all the crumbs off the floor, an occasional sandwich crust held out to me by tiny sticky fingers and I occasionally rummaged through the trash justifying it by telling myself, “it was allowed because they forgot to feed me.” My stomach in this moment had never felt this empty and the water sloshing around sounded like the Pemberton’s washing machine. My refined tastes would have to take a backseat and I continued to wander down the creek in search of the unknown meal.
As I continued to wander down the creek, the sides of the creekbank became more and more dense with trees. It engulfed me and I felt like I couldn’t escape from the water. It was lonely and dark despite it still being mid-day. I wanted to go home but I wasn’t quite sure where that was anymore. Suddenly, I spotted something shiny glistening right outside of the water on a small island of dirt in the middle of the water. It beckoned me like a beacon of hope.
Megan Casem 