16 hours ago
4
I knew Gizmo was the one the moment I laid eyes on him. It was October 2013, and Gizmo was a newborn chihuahua. He was hairless, with swollen eyelids, and the runt of the litter. I fell in love. Over the next couple of years, he was the perfect companion. Whether he was watching Grey’s Anatomy with me or licking my nose, Gizmo brought light to my life. I remember staring into his eyes – they were so distinct, with amber-coloured lines around the irises.
Gizmo loved spending time with our terrier mix Benji and our chihuahua Chapo in our home in Las Vegas, but his best buddy was my mom. She wasn’t a dog person, but she adored Gizmo, and would spoil him with Mexican rice.
On a windy day in February 2015, the latch of my backyard gate came undone, and Benji, Chapo and Gizmo got out. My neighbour found Benji and brought him home, and we found Chapo soon after. But my neighbour had seen a woman in a red car take Gizmo.
I was terrified, yet hopeful. Maybe this woman was taking him to the vet for a microchip scan, and I would see him again soon. No such luck. Desperately, I hung flyers, posted online and knocked on doors. I looked for red cars. I even paid a robocall company to send out alerts about Gizmo. I got many responses, but they were all dead ends or scams. It was heartbreaking.
Over the years, I kept up the search. But when the pandemic hit in 2020, we finally started to mourn Gizmo. We hoped he was happy, but we knew it was unlikely we would see him again.
It was a calm night on 17 July this year, around 10pm. It had been more than nine years without Gizmo. I was baking cookies and checking emails. While waiting for the cookies to rise, I received an email from the microchip company Gizmo was registered with.
I couldn’t believe it. I shrank to my knees, sobbing. Gizmo had been found, it said, and was at an animal emergency centre in Las Vegas, just 10 miles away.
I immediately called the centre. “Is it really Gizmo?” I asked. “It really is,” they replied. “We’re giving him a bath right now. You can come get him in about an hour.” We would discuss his condition when I came in, she said. This was frightening to hear. Chapo had died just one month earlier, and I was not prepared to say goodbye to another dog, let alone one I’d already mourned.
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When we arrived, they told us that a woman had found him and brought him in that day. They didn’t have much information about who she was, or how she found him. All they knew was that she had been trying to catch him for a few weeks after spotting him wandering the streets. It seemed that, at some point, the woman in the red car had either let him go or he’d escaped. He was in rough shape, his skin was irritated, he had an eye infection and a limp, and the vet had to sedate him in order to shave his matted fur.
Finally, they brought him out to me, wrapped in a blanket. He looked at me when I said his name. And then I saw the amber-coloured line around his irises. It was undeniable – I was holding Gizmo.
“Gizmy,” I whispered. He tilted his head at the familiar sound before licking my nose in recognition. The gesture broke me, and I held him tight, overwhelmed with emotion. Finally, after nine long years, he was ready to come home.
Gizmo’s reunion with the others was just as special. When Gizmo saw my mom, it was all love – he stared at her, not quite believing what he was seeing. My mom burst into tears. Benji, now 14, is so happy to have his little brother back. Gizmo follows him everywhere. He and our new five-year-old chihuahua named Sophie are forming a bond too. Though it breaks my heart that Chapo never got to see Gizmo again, I feel like Chapo’s spirit guided him back home.
Gizmo has improved in health since being home. His eye and skin infections are getting better, and he wears socks to help with his unsteady gait from intervertebral disc disease. He remains affectionate, loving and fond of my mom’s couch spot and Mexican rice.
I often wonder what he went through over those nine years. Maybe I’ll never know. But my focus is on the now. I’m doing everything I can to give him the best care so he can live out his golden years to the fullest. He’s the same dog I loved all those years ago, and I’m so grateful to get more time with him.
As told to Sophia Brousset
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