Her name was Maybe [“Police charge man with Savary animal shooting,” March 15].
Spring break, as with every school holiday, brings families to Savary Island. Some have been coming to this tiny island for generations and Maybe would be on the dock to greet them in a happy, friendly and excited way.
Most knew the dog by name. This was her home. She knew no other life than the caring community where she belonged and lived her all-too-short life.
But this year, parents will have to explain to their children why Maybe is not there to welcome them and that she was shot and killed. With her senseless death, the island lost something of its innocence and that sense of personal freedom, so rare in the large cities most of us inhabit, was violated.
Those who loved Maybe spent 10 days in the worst of weather searching beneath every vacant home and outbuilding on the island, lifting brush heavy with snow. What appeared to be a tiny island became a place of myriad hiding places for a frightened dog.
Two retired police officers who live on the island used their professional skills to organize a grid search and more than 40 people devoted time and energy ploughing through knee-deep snow calling her name, certain she would appear at any moment and be returned safely to her loving family.
When the truth of what had happened was revealed, a local resident built a special box for the burial, not a slipshod orange crate, but one crafted carefully in cedar to bury a delightful dog who was loved and respected by those who knew her.
Savary has lost something precious with Maybe’s violent death.
The people of the island are outraged by this egregious act. They will remember Maybe and with the passing of time they will heal, but innocence lost can never be restored.
Patricia Hollingdale is a Vancouver, BC, resident and regular visitor to Savary Island.
