Silence settled on the room again. The conversation always came undone at this point. We were stuck, unable to get out. We were powerless to make anything happen. We could do nothing other than wait.
Even though Nurali was silent, the rest of the world was not. Along with Kiki’s e-mails asking if we still wanted her to help, we started to see an increasing number of comments on the Facebook page asking for updates. People, rightly so, were wondering what was going on. They wanted to know how the process of getting Gobi ready to travel was going and when she was coming home. They wanted photos, video, and news.
I couldn’t blame them. If I’d have given money to a cause like that, I’d feel the same way. I’d want to know the dog was being looked after and the owners were acting diligently and responsibly. I’d want evidence that everything was moving forward. I’d want to know the whole thing wasn’t a scam.
Though Lucja and I were desperate to provide people with the reassurance they wanted, we couldn’t do it. All we could do was post vague messages about how everything was in hand and we were taking the first steps in what was going to be a long, long journey. We rationed our news and photos the way we rationed our food on a long desert stage.
A few more days slipped by, and still we received no response from Nurali. I could tell that Kiki was finding all this waiting a bit frustrating, but she clearly understood the unique nature of the challenge ahead of us. She offered to e-mail Nurali herself, and we gladly agreed. Hopefully the fact that Kiki was Chinese would solve any language and cultural problems.
The supporters, on the other hand, were getting more vocal, and more and more requests for information were being made. I began to worry that if we didn’t come up with some concrete news soon, the huge wave of positive support might back away from us. Worse still, people might turn against us. So I decided to call one of the race organizers.
“This is a big deal now,” I told her. “It’s not just me who cares about bringing Gobi back; it’s gone global. It feels like thousands and thousands of people are watching and wanting to know what’s going on. The ones who have donated are like shareholders, and they want answers.”
She listened and told me that she understood. “I’ll make it happen,” she said.
When the call ended, I felt a weight fall from me. If the race organizers were going to get involved, we’d be fine. They masterminded a whole series of races that took place on four different continents; surely they could get a little dog reunited with her master.
Sure enough, Kiki got an e-mail from Nurali a week later. Everything was fine, though Nurali did agree that there was a lot more to be done than she had first anticipated. She and Kiki agreed that Nurali would keep on looking after Gobi, but that Kiki would send someone out to Urumqi to take care of everything that needed to be done before Gobi could fly back to Beijing.
This was good news. But the process was taking so much longer than either Lucja or I had hoped. What mattered most was that Gobi was safe, Nurali was still taking care of her, and Kiki would soon have someone in Urumqi putting the plan into action.
Nurali even e-mailed some pictures, and we were able to give the supporters a full progress update. It did the trick and answered most of the questions people had. The press inquiries kept on coming, and I spoke with magazine journalists for the first time as well as more radio stations.
For the first time since arriving home from China, I felt truly confident that everything was going to work out.
The next week, however, I started to get nervous. Nurali had gone silent again. It was so frustrating. Two weeks had dragged by since we launched the crowdfunding site, and we were no closer to getting Gobi the medical care and tests she needed to begin the process of flying her back home.
I e-mailed the race organizer again to see if she could help, but instead of getting a reply from her, I received one from her office. They said she was in America, as was Nurali. They wrote that Gobi was being looked after and that Nurali would be back in China in a few days and all was good. They passed on a message saying that the organizer planned on talking everything through with Nurali when they were together.
Lucja and I didn’t know what to think. We were a bit annoyed that it was going to be yet another week until Kiki could get someone out to see Nurali and get things moving, but we had known there could be speed bumps along the way. And who knew, maybe Nurali would catch some of the coverage of the story when she was in America and get a clearer picture for herself of how much attention Gobi was getting.
Nurali was as good as her word. When she was back in China a few days later, she e-mailed Kiki and promised to get things happening quickly.
Great, I thought, when Kiki told me the news. Not long now.
A day later I checked in with Kiki: Any word from Nurali on when you can send your person out to Urumqi?
Her reply was quick.
Dion, I have not heard back from Nurali. Kiki.
I waited another day.
Any news today, Kiki?
Again, Kiki got straight back.
No.
I e-mailed the race organizer again: Why’s this all taking so long? Don’t tell me something’s happened.
The next day, Kiki had nothing to report, and my inbox didn’t get anything from the race organizer either.
Another day passed, and from the moment I woke up, I knew something wasn’t right. Sitting in bed, waiting for the alarm again, I was as wired as if I were already on my third coffee. I couldn’t tell Lucja exactly what I thought was wrong. “But there’s a problem,” I said. “I just know there is.”
I got up and checked my phone, knowing it was already late afternoon in China. Among the handful of e-mails from journalists and the great pile of notifications from the crowdfunding page, one stood out: To: Dion Leonard
From: **** ****
Date: August 15, 2016
Subject: Gobi
Dion, I need to ring you.
When the race organizer and I spoke later that morning, there was a part of me that wasn’t surprised by what I heard. She told me that while Nurali had been away in the United States, her father-in-law had been looking after Gobi. She’d run away for a day or two but come back for food. Then she had gone missing again and hadn’t returned at all. Gobi had been missing for several days now.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said. I was trying to remain calm and not explode with a barrage of expletives. I was bloody furious. “What are they doing to find her?”
“Nurali’s got people out there looking. They’re doing their best to find her.”