January 1, 2016
I was worried about the dog, and seemed to be the only one worried. The girls all said, “O, someone is taking care of her. We saw lights.” No one seemed to believe me when I said, “there is no one there. There is no food or water.”
I paddled ashore again and walked up to all the houses, calling loudly and knocking on doors and peering into windows. There was not a soul, other than the dog, on island.
I felt dreadful, dehydrated, and depressed because I could not find the dog. Wearily I wandered back to my paddleboard, and sat on it, stupidly, wondering what to do. I had brought food and water but hadn’t seen or heard her after an hour’s search. She found me there, and joyfully bounced and frolicked around me on the beach. She never once jumped up on me, though. Someone had trained her well. She wolfed down the chicken breast I brought and sniffed around for more. She was really, really hungry. But not thirsty. She didn’t want the the water, which didn’t make sense to me, as I couldn’t see where she was getting water. I spent a long time petting her, and my hands came away blue. Paint?
I had spoken to Muffin about the dog yesterday, and she said she had called someone who knew the owner, who said that there was a caretaker on the island. I told her emphatically that no one was taking care of the dog or the island, and that we had been here for three days and seen no one. So she told me to call Harold, who said he he had talked to someone who knew the caretaker and said, “the caretaker is there.” “No, there is no one here. There has been no one here for three days, “ I insisted. So Harold said he would come down to see for himself. And this afternoon he did drive down in his motor boat. He didn’t go ashore, I think, but he could tell from the lack of boats that the island was empty of humans. But he didn’t take the dog back with him. I wrote an email about his visit to Muffin and Will, asking them to let me know if they heard anything about the dog.