1
MOLLY’S FIRST TEST
At 9 a.m. on Friday, 3 February 2017, just as my assistant, Sam, had settled at her desk, the telephone rang. I was outside in the early-morning sun, preparing to exercise Molly.
My cocker spaniel had woken up in a particularly frisky mood—so much so that she’d knocked over my girlfriend Sarah’s favorite vase in the hallway. Molly needed to run off some energy.
“UK Pet Detectives,” answered Sam. “Can we help?”
“I really hope so,” replied a glum male voice. “Our cat, Rusty, has gone missing. We’ve looked everywhere, but there’s no sign of her. We’ve hit a brick wall, really, so we thought we’d give you guys a call.”
The man went on to explain that his name was Tim, and he and his girlfriend, Jasmine, lived in a first-floor apartment in a building on a quiet cul-de-sac. They were both cat-lovers, and had adopted Rusty, a black-white-and-copper rescue with almond-shaped eyes and a long, fluffy tail. They often let the cat outdoors, where she’d hang around the street, lazing on driveways and sitting on doorsteps, never straying too far or staying out late.
Me and Sam at Pet Detective HQ
The previous Friday, however, Rusty had failed to turn up for her weekly treat of steamed fish, and her owners were surprised and concerned.
“It’s just so out of character,” Tim told Sam. “We’ve spent the whole weekend searching in streets and gardens—we’ve even printed out leaflets and posters—but she’s nowhere to be found. We’re at a total loss.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” said Sam. “Leave it to me. I’ll have a word with my boss and I’ll get back to you.”
She promptly bounded over to the large window and yanked it up.
“COLIN!” she yelled, stopping Molly and me dead in our tracks. “Make sure you pop in after your training session. Think I might have found Molly’s first proper job…”
Half an hour later I was discussing Rusty’s disappearance with Sam while a worn-out Molly enjoyed a snooze. I felt my pulse quicken as Sam outlined the missing pet’s circumstances. If our inaugural cat-seeking assignment was to be a success, the search conditions had to be as favorable as possible. This one seemed to check all the boxes.
Rusty came from a single-cat household, thus enabling me to obtain a decent hair sample and giving Molly the best chance of isolating the scent and matching it to the lost cat. Secondly, Rusty had been missing for a week, which increased the likelihood of finding her alive. Also working in our favor was the fact that the weather was calm and settled, unseasonably so, in fact, for early February. Strong winds or any form of precipitation (rain, snow or mist, for example) would dilute the cat scent and interfere with my dog’s ultra-sensitive nose.
Luckily, I was well versed in all things meteorological and geographical. Prior to my long career in the police force I’d spent over a decade in the Royal Navy, becoming something of an expert on air masses, frontal systems and cartography. Little did I know then how useful this knowledge would become in the world of pet detection.
In December 2016 Molly had completed intensive scent-recognition training, and since then she and I had staged countless practice scenarios at my Bramble Hill Farm HQ, honing our skills in preparation for our first real-life search for a missing cat. I had been confident that Molly and I had attained the required level of competence, but it was only when I’d sent some video footage of our training to the experts at the Medical Detection Dogs charity that we’d finally been given the green light.
“From what we’ve seen, we think you’re both ready for your first proper search,” they’d said, causing a tingle to shoot up my spine. “Your interaction and teamwork are excellent and, as far as we’re concerned, you’re good to go.”
Now I faced the prospect of solving a live search with Molly by my side. I felt a mixture of exhilaration and nervousness. I had spent so much time and energy developing my innovative cat-detection-dog idea—it had been five years in the making. Having found my perfect sidekick, I was desperate to prove that all our hard work had been worth it.
“This could be it,” I said to Sam. “This could be Molly’s first test.”
“Oh my goodness, how exciting!” She grinned.
That evening I spent an hour or so on the phone with Tim, obtaining as much background information as possible. I asked him whether there’d been any triggers that might have caused Rusty to flee, but Tim was adamant that, as far as he was concerned, nothing had changed.
“The elderly lady who lives in the opposite flat died last week, which was quite upsetting,” he said, “but other than that, things have been pretty humdrum around here.”
As for sightings, they’d drawn a blank in their own neighborhood. But that morning they had received calls from two separate witnesses in a village a few miles away who claimed to have seen a cat answering Rusty’s description in their respective gardens.
“I doubt it’s our cat, because she’s never, ever roamed that far,” admitted Tim, “but we’d still like you to investigate, if you don’t mind.”
“I’m more than happy to help,” I replied, before casually mentioning that I’d be accompanied by a canine colleague.
“My cocker spaniel, Molly, will be coming, too,” I said. “She’s got a decent sense of smell and she doesn’t yap at cats so she might be quite useful. Hope that’s okay with you.”
I was purposely downplaying things, so as not to put any pressure upon Molly, or myself.
“No problem,” said Tim. “Anything that might help us find Rusty is fine with me.”
I spent the rest of the night poring over digital maps, plans and photos of the St. Albans area where Tim and Jasmine lived while Sarah slept beside me. It was important that I learned as much as possible about the neighborhood so as to give Molly and me the best chance of locating Rusty. When I felt myself beginning to nod off, I shut down my laptop and went to check on Molly, as I did every night. She sensed me peering through the gap in the door, raised her head and drowsily opened one eye.
Molly’s first meeting at Medical Detection Dogs (MDD)
“We’ve got a big day ahead, young lady,” I whispered, “so I’ll see you bright and early in the morning.”
Yeah, I know, Dad, Molly seemed to say, so how’s about letting me get some sleep?
She held my gaze for a couple of seconds before curling up tight and going back to sleep.
* * *
We left the house at 5 a.m. The weather was cool and cloudy with a slight underlying breeze: the perfect conditions for our big search, I hoped. Sarah had seen us off, fully aware of the magnitude of the next few hours. She had watched me build up to this moment for a long time and knew exactly how much it meant to me. “Hope it all goes well, darling.” She’d smiled, and I almost did a double-take when she gently, yet gingerly, patted Molly’s glossy black head before wishing her good luck. Sarah was no dog-lover and her rare display of affection for Molly meant a lot.
Molly literally lapped it up, giving Sarah’s palm a big, sloppy lick in return for her kind words. I smiled, imagining Sarah darting straight to the hand sanitizer as soon as she returned indoors.
It was a two-hour drive from West Sussex to Tim and Jasmine’s apartment in Hertfordshire. They greeted us outside their modern four-story building. I guessed they were in their mid-twenties, and both wore a kind of glazed expression that I recognized only too well. Like many of my clients before them, their precious pet had gone missing, and they were sick to their stomachs with worry.
My eye was drawn to a huge poster in their front window. PLEASE HELP, I’M LOST, it declared. CAN YOU HELP ME FIND MY HOME?
Staring out from behind the printed text was a beautiful photograph of Rusty. She was a pretty cat with a friendly face. She had a white chest and legs, and two black splotches above her eyes, which made her look like a feline caped crusader.
“I wish all my clients could produce something so professional-looking,” I said.
“Being a graphic designer comes in handy sometimes…,” replied Tim with a wan smile.
“… and our Rusty is a dream to photograph,” added Jasmine.
I followed the couple indoors, leaving Molly safe and secure in the car (and, as always, in my line of vision) with her favorite toys for company. I knew that she’d experience serious sensory overload if she entered an unfamiliar flat, and I needed her to remain as calm as possible. It was crucial that she would be able to focus solely on Rusty’s scent, if I was lucky enough to obtain a decent sample.
The three of us discussed a plan of action. Jasmine had to work that morning, so Tim would accompany Molly and me on the search. Our first stop would be the nearby village where the two cat sightings had occurred, but before we set off I posed a question.
“I know this may sound a little odd, Tim, but would you mind if I took a sample of Rusty’s cat hair? Molly’s a trained sniffer dog and—you never know—she might detect some scent.”
I wanted to keep things nicely understated. I needed to manage Tim’s expectations so that he didn’t start believing that the deployment of a search dog would guarantee Rusty’s recovery.
“Yeah, sure, help yourself,” he replied. “She molts a lot. Her cat bed’s full of it.”
Out came my sterilized jam jar, and in went a wad of whitish hair; more than enough for Molly to get her amazing nose into.
Molly and I had often practiced the transition from pet mode to work mode at Bramble Hill Farm, and donning our respective “uniforms” had always been a vital part of this routine. So I strapped on Molly’s special harness once I got her out of the car and zipped up my United Kingdom Pet Detective fleece. I was buzzing with excitement but did my utmost to adopt a professional demeanor.
As Tim and I surveyed our surroundings a brisk wind began to whip up, with enough vigor to ruffle our hair. This wasn’t forecast, I thought. I looked to the horizon and saw the telltale signs of a warm front heading our way. I knew this would bring steady winds for the rest of the day, followed by rain. I figured that we had about six hours before the first drops reached us.
“We really need to get started, Tim,” I said, looking at my watch.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s go for it.”
The two gardens that Rusty had reportedly been sighted in were on opposite sides of the road and, fortunately, both owners allowed us access. With a deep breath and my heart racing, I introduced Rusty’s cat-hair sample to Molly for the first time. I unscrewed the jam jar and gave my command of Toma, which means “take” in Spanish. The expert trainers at MDD forensic accountants had selected the command since Molly would never hear the word spoken around my house or within any other context.
I offered the jar up to Molly’s snout.
She inhaled the scent and waited for my next command.
“Seek, seek,” I said. As soon as I did, she belted off into the first garden, her tail wagging furiously.
“Oh, wow…,” said Tim, slowly realizing that Molly was not your average dog. “Has she … has she been trained to do this?”
“She has.” I smiled. “But, Tim, you need to know that this is her first live search and it would be unfair to you—and Molly—if I was to promise anything. But she’ll do her very best to find Rusty, I can assure you of that.”
Molly searched everywhere for the cat’s scent—beneath a holly bush, inside the greenhouse, behind the compost pile—but to no avail. All the while, she increased her eye contact with me, which meant that she had finished sweeping the area.
There’s no cat here, Dad … let’s go … was how I read her body language.
It was a similar story in the second garden. Molly failed to locate any scent trails and I was pretty sure that Rusty had never ventured there. However, as I called her with a command of “Molly, come,” I noticed a black-gray-and-tan cat tiptoeing across the lawn. I squinted as it came closer.
Oh my goodness, I thought. Is that Rusty walking toward me? Is Molly having an “off” day?
Copyright © 2022 by Colin Butcher
