Note: Names have been changed to protect the privacy of embarrassed furballs.
On a chilly Sunday morning we noticed a young couple pacing up and down as they scanned for something.
“Our cat is missing,” they said. The distraught couple were camping at Clam Beach and their kitty, whom I will call Pretty Boy, went out for his midnight stroll and did not come back. My husband and I commiserated with them, once having had our hearts frequently in our throats because of a wandering farm cat named Mister who evaded the coyotes hunting him on more than one occasion.
Fortunately, there is a caring cadre of humans who love to help reunite Humboldt’s lost furry friends with their humans. We told the couple to post a picture of Pretty Boy at humboldt.lost.found.pets on social media. It was Sunday and the Humboldt County Animal Shelter was closed to the public but accepting animals from enforcement, so they would have to wait a day if their errant kitty was picked up by the fuzz. Pretty Boy was chipped, we learned to our relief. “Keep the faith!” we said, even though we knew about the hungry coyotes, and the family of foxes that prowled the Clam Beach south parking lot every night.
As the couple drove slowly through the Clam Beach campground lot one last time, a loose dog approached them. They’d lost a cat and found a dog. We took the dog from them as they reluctantly headed home. The sweet cream-colored canine, whom we’ll call Piney Girl, absolutely refused to go anywhere but the south parking lot to look for her humans and we were going, too. She immediately tried to get into an open car alongside the dog of a confused man. “Sorry,” I called. “She’s lost and I think she just wants to go home!”
Our found friend then went right up to a woman with two dogs as they came off the beach. Piney Girl wasn’t hers, but the wonderfully helpful woman, Diane, thought she recognized her and mentioned another lost animal social media site called Humboldt Paws Cause. My spouse had our phone on the beach as he looked for an anxious, dogless human. I promised to check the site as soon as possible.
Piney Girl sat patiently by a red car, seemingly adamant this was her car. There was a comfy bed in the back covered in the right color dog hair, so it was at least possible. Diane tried to lure Piney with a treat but she was having none of it. Just then, a car stopped in the street, its driver yelling that the dog’s human was coming this way.
Within minutes, human and dog (and other dog) were reunited. “I’m a bad dog mom! I forgot about the skeet shooting and it is the one time she didn’t have her tags!” cried her owner. Piney Girl had been spooked from the noise of the shooting range above the beach which is open on Sundays. The weather conditions had made it sound like shots were right on the beach. No wonder she bolted. My husband came back, and we told Dog Mom about the couple who lost their cat but found Piney Girl. “I will light a candle for Pretty Boy,” she promised.
That night, we again went to look for Pretty Boy. The missing beastie was not in the bushes or under the picnic tables. We were headed back and gave a last, “kitty, kitty, KITTY!” At last, the little snot came trotting across the street to meet us with a long, loud meow. Although it had been raining, he was barely wet. He must have found a snug little hole to snooze away the day while his frantic humans combed the area. We put the purring fuzzball in our camper. He must have found plenty to eat, too, as he turned his pink nose up at the fresh can of tuna opened just for him to ignore in perfect finicky kitty fashion.
We took a quick photo to text to Pretty Boy’s ecstatic humans. “OMG! We will be right there!” came the response. He settled into a dark corner to groom himself before snoozing, oblivious.
When the camper door opened, Pretty Boy was right there waiting. He recognized his humans’ voices and wanted to go home. The young man who had been so stoic earlier in the day had tears in his eyes. The young lady muffled a few sniffles in striped fur — heartwarming to witness. We told them of our old Mister’s delinquent ways, sharing empathy and the joy of reunion.
When we humans adventure out into the world and take our furry friends with us, sometimes the worst happens. The horrible, helpless feeling when we acknowledge our animal friend is missing is like no other. Fortunately, this time everyone found each other again. We are lucky to have microchips to help others identify our fuzzballs and social media sites to spread the word about lost and found animals. But most importantly, we have other humans who help reconnect scared humans with even more frightened furry family members. A grateful thank you to the many Humboldtians who would light a candle for someone else’s lost kitty.
Meg Wall-Wild (she/her) is a freelance writer and photographer who loves her books, the dunes of Humboldt, and her husband, not necessarily in that order. When not writing, she pursues adventure in her camper, Nellie Bly. On Instagram @megwallwild.
This article appears in 2025 NCJ Pet Photo Contest Winners.