Tilly’s Tale…

Story by Robb Murray | Photos by Casey Ek

Twelve days … 288 hours … 17,280 minutes. That’s how long Tilly the mostly black lab went missing last winter. Twelve days.

And in those 12 days, Tilly lived life on the edge. She scavenged for food, found shelter where she could, collected tennis balls, somehow lost her collar. And whenever a well-meaning stranger tried to capture her, she bolted.

Worse, she was all alone. Think for a moment about your beagle, cocker spaniel or chihuahua. Think about them not knowing which direction home is, wondering why they can’t find their people, struggling to survive in temps cold enough to freeze car batteries. How would you feel? How far would you go to find them? At what point would you give up hope?

This is a story about survival. Literally. And with Tilly and her owner, Krista Dinsmore, smiling happily on the cover of this magazine, you can probably guess how it ends.

But like all good stories, the drama — the good, old-fashioned, pageturning drama — is found in the journey.

We’ll likely never know what was going through Tilly’s mind for those 12 days. But we do know what was going through her owner’s mind. And we know that, had the community not pulled together for a lost dog — and had they not gotten help from an “angel” — Tilly might not have found her home at all. Minnesota winters are tough. But, turns out, a community’s resolve to find a 3-year-old mutt was tougher.

‘She did not come back’

When Krista and Xac Dinsmore left for a winter getaway to Hawaii, they assumed their beloved dog, Tilly, would stay safe with a family member. And they were right. Tilly was very safe and well cared for. But even the most obedient dogs in the lovingest of dogsitting situations can do unpredictable things.

It was about 8 a.m. Hawaii time when Krista’s phone rang. And that’s where the odyssey begins.

“My sister's like, ‘So, Tilly ran away,’” Dinsmore recalled. “And I'm like, ‘No, she didn't. She is perfect off leash. Always has been. We live in a neighborhood where we just let her out. She goes potty, stays in our yard and comes back. She'll be back. Don't worry about it’ … She did not come back.”

Dinsmore morphed in that moment from Hawaiian vacationer to long-distance dog hunter. She transformed their hotel room into a command center. She made desperate Facebook posts, reached out to dog rescue groups, spent hours on the phone doing anything she could to locate Tilly.

“I barely left the room,” she said. Back in Mankato, her sister and brother-in-law were chasing sightings. At first, there were many: Tilly darting across Madison East parking lot, Tilly moving through cemeteries and ravines, etc. But each time someone got close, she bolted — a fact to which many dog owners can relate. In Dinsmore’s words, Tilly was “fully feral.”

The Dinsmores arrived home a few days after getting that initial call, and quickly got to work searching for Tilly. Dinsmore’s team of friends and family passed out fliers and spent evenings driving around town, hoping for a glimpse of her.

Calls came in. She was seen all over the Mankato area. One group spotted her at Good Counsel and, having seen the social media posts and fliers, chased after her. What they didn’t know is that Tilly’s mind was functioning on a different plane, a plane where friendly beckoning from well-meaning helpers is useless, and even the most delicioussmelling offering of food comes cloaked in a veil of uncertainty.

It’s called “survival mode,” and Dinsmore learned all about it after The Retrievers arrived to help.

What is ‘Survival Mode’?

Early in her attempts to find Tilly, Dinsmore reached out to a group called The Retrievers, a Minnesota-based nonprofit made up of volunteers that specializes in finding lost pets. Alishia Pete of Kasota answered the call and got to work immediately tracking down Tilly.

The biggest obstacle in finding lost dogs, ironically, is the way their brains are hard-wired to not get caught. When a dog gets lost, even the friendliest family pet can slip into what rescuers call survival mode — a state where fear and instinct override training and familiar bonds. In this mode, dogs may avoid people, hide, run from their owners and ignore calls or commands. They focus only on food, water, shelter and safety.

Because of this, chasing or calling a lost dog often makes things worse. Groups like The Retrievers recommend instead using feeding stations, familiar scent items and humane traps to slowly build trust and routine. The goal is to guide the dog out of survival mode long enough to safely bring it home.

The survival mode concept was a new one for Dinsmore. “I’ve had dogs all my life, and I never imagined she could forget us,” she said. “All Tilly could think about was survival.”

Pete said the hardest part of Tilly’s case wasn’t capturing her — it was teaching the community how to behave. Everyone wants to help, including those folks at Good Counsel.

“They were well-intentioned, but she almost ended up on Highway 14” Pete said. “Moments like that can turn a manageable situation into a tragedy.”

Knowing how to help is the key to tracking a dog in survival mode.

The hunt

Dinsmore and The Retrievers used social media to get the word out. And as Tilly sightings came in, Pete recorded them on an interactive Google map.

Reported sightings began Feb. 11. She was seen at the intersection of Madison Avenue and Victory Drive, the Walmart Distribution Center, the Casey’s in Eagle Lake. She was spotted on Shiloh Court, Hope Court and North 7th Street. Tilly left tracks at several homes on Thompson Ravine Road. Her collar was found on the lengthy Good Counsel steps.

For 11 days Tilly left clues. In addition to dog tracks, they found several areas where she’d clearly bedded down for a night or nap. At two residences in town Tilly had nested beneath outdoor decks. How did they know? She left tennis balls behind. Dinsmore said Tilly likely curled up next to a house, catching whatever warmth she could on nights when temps dipped to -30.

As word got out, people reported sightings on Facebook, posted flyers, and called in updates. Pete, meanwhile, was plotting a strategy using sightings, live traps, public education and luck.

The Retrievers rely on humane, specially designed traps. Originally created for golden retrievers, these “Missy traps” have evolved into four-by-eight dog kennels with remote-controlled gates triggered by an electric magnet system.

“People sometimes imagine hunting traps,” Pete said. “This is completely safe for the dog.”

Recovery efforts combine patience, observation and technology.

Volunteers monitor sightings and occasionally use drones to track movement — but Pete is quick to correct misconceptions about the drones.

“They’re not X-ray vision,” she said. “If a dog is under a deck or hidden in dense trees, you can’t see them. For Tilly, careful reporting and signs did the job.”

Tilly herself helped guide the search. “She left clues everywhere,” Pete said. “A tennis ball here, a trail there—it was like following a popcorn trail. Every small sign helped us know where she had been and where she might go next.”

Pete’s dedication is voluntary. A stay-at-home mom with grown children, she devotes hours to The Retrievers, a nonprofit covering Minnesota and parts of neighboring states. The organization consults on cases nationwide, training volunteers and, increasingly, dogs for scent tracking.

“We don’t give up until we know the outcome,” Pete said. And sometimes that outcome is profoundly sad. A lost dog wandering on a busy highway can end in catastrophe.

(In Tilly’s case, though, a camera found her waiting for cars to pass before crossing a street.)

On Feb. 23, the Dinsmores planned to go bowling. But because a flood of Tilly sightings came in from the Clair’s Creek Park area — a tiny wooded area in the Diamond Creek subdivision near Mankato East High School — plans changed. They hurried over to Clair’s Creek Park.

From Dinsmore’s account of Tilly’s capture on The Retrievers’ Facebook page, it went down like this: We placed three food stations and two cameras, hoping to establish a feeding location so we could return the next day with a humane trap. Just as we were wrapping up, a neighborhood resident stopped to chat. We got to meet their two adorable pups, and they generously offered their yard for us to set up as well. We drove a few blocks down to check it out.

The homeowner led us through their fenced backyard, which backed up to the field where Tilly was last seen. They pointed out fresh dog prints in the mud and some safe hiding spots. After talking it through, Alishia and I agreed that if we didn’t see Tilly on any of the other cameras overnight, this would be our next setup location.

As we walked back to the front yard, chatting about how great the yard was and how much support we had, I struggled a bit with the gate and focused on getting it open. That’s when my sister suddenly whispered, “She’s right there.”

Tilly was standing a few feet away, still clearly nervous but not fleeing. Dinsmore walked to her car to open the door, hoping Tilly would jump in. Then she sat cross-legged on the driveway, 30 feet away from the car, and waited patiently. All the while, Pete is giving her instructions, all of which can be heard — including Tilly’s barking — on video posted of the capture.

“Let her make the decision,” Pete instructs. “Just sit down … sit down. I’m going to slowly get a slip leash so you have one. … Just stay sitting still. She’s gonna recognize you.”

With Dinsmore sitting still on the driveway, Tilly cautiously approaches. She pauses, eyes Dinsmore, looks around, barks. She walks away from Dinsmore, around a car parked in the driveway.

And then it happens. Tilly approaches the car slowly, sniffs, and hops right in. “She just got in the car!” Pete says, as Dinsmore jumps up. “No! Slow-slow-slow … slow.”

Dinsmore walks slowly to the car. “I want you to get up there and I want you to slam that door shut,” Pete tells her.

Dinsmore puts both hands on the open car doors. “Just slam ‘em!” Pete says. Pete and Dinsmore cheer, and Tilly’s odyssey is over. “For a dog I was convinced had no survival skills, she somehow made it 12 days in the wild, keeping herself warm through freezing nights and finding enough food,” Dinsmore wrote on Facebook. “Now, she’s going to spend the next few days resting, eating good food, and getting more cuddles than ever before.” MM