45…

On March 19, 1995, Michael Jordan returned to the NBA after a 17 month retirement phase, wearing the number 45. So many wanted Jordan to return to basketball. Many wondered if he would. Number 45.

May 10, 2021 marked the 45th day our beloved puppy, Kiki, was still missing. Over those 45 days, I developed a pretty deliberate routine: wake up, post Kiki’s missing puppy flyer on Instagram, check the Shadow app for potential matches, work out, cry over the less-than-perfect weather report, work, hope for a sighting, listen to messages from local shelters, work, check local shelter pics, leave messages for them, cry, go to bed. Sprinkled throughout were numerous prayers to my dad to protect Kiki and text messages to the 3 people who checked-in daily.

May 10th was no different, down to an unknown caller leaving me a message of a potential sighting. Except…it was different. The person then sent me a text with two pictures. Both showed a skinny animal with a long black tail.

Kiki.

I quickly shared the two pics with my husband, my sister, and my friend, and then drove down to the city. The stranger, really an angel, showed me the exact spot where Kiki was seen and how to trespass to get to her. This person then said to me: We are going to get her.

This is how I found myself under a highway, dressed like Walter Mercado on casual Fridays, hoping to spot her myself. I was starting to feel defeated again but my husband wanted to do one more lap, deeper in the woods. He told me to stay put, so I got on the phone with Bob Swensen, the magical dog tracker and whisperer. He talked me through a number of steps and got in his car with a trap and a camera.

Then Joe called. I could hear Kiki barking in the background. My husband had her cornered in a tiny Kiki-sized cave. She was scared. But he was with her.

I called my friend Melissa and asked if her husband would come down to help. Before I could even finish my sentence, her husband was in his car. Once he arrived, I helped him find where Joe was located and was about to walk back uphill to meet Bob. Just as I started to walk, my husband came out of the bushes looking like Jesus, Kiki in his arms.

There is no way to describe the first salty kiss from a 45 day missing puppy.

It appears that Kiki found a very small but protective cave, close to a stream. My guess is that she stayed in there during the day and would come out at night to eat the food left out for cats by those who stay under the highway. But who knows why she was out on a Monday afternoon, at exactly the same time that a stranger who never walks across that bridge was there, and that this same person would peer down because she likes to see the cats who hang out by Howard Street. Who knows. But it all happened and my husband decided that we were not returning home without Kiki.

There are so many other details (including my Walter Mercado-inspired outfit) but for now I will just say that I am grateful to so many. People never stopped caring and looking and trying to get Kiki home.

45. That is a very big number for a return.