This kind of atmosphere was the exact opposite of what I’d experienced as a teenager in Warwick. Whether it was the tea or the company or the fact that finally, after so long, I was about to get Gobi one giant step closer to home, I started to feel a profound sense of peace about everything.
Eventually it was time to say goodbye. We hugged one another out in front of the shop, and I walked back to my flat holding two beautifully presented bags of tea they had given me. Going up in the lift, I realized they’d paid the bill at the restaurant yet again. They’d never asked me to show them Gobi, even though when I showed them the WeChat group and some of the news coverage about her, their eyes lit up. They didn’t want anything from me. They were just offering friendship with no strings attached.
I was nervous about saying goodbye to Gobi at the airport check-in desk, but Kiki had made it clear that there was no way for her to fly with me in the cabin. “Take care down there,” I said through the bars of the crate we’d bought. Gobi had an old T-shirt of mine in there with her, and a cushion that was pure luxury. Even so, she knew something odd was happening, I could tell.
For almost all of the three-hour flight, I sat in the cabin fretting about Gobi. Could I trust that she’d made it onto the plane? Enough things had gone wrong already to make me nervous about that possibility. Then there was the experience of being in the hold. I knew she’d cope with the cold—her performance in the Tian Shan mountains proved that she was a rugged little pooch—but how would she manage with all those strange noises? The last time she was locked up was when she was with Nurali, and she had run away from there. I couldn’t imagine how stressful she might be finding the experience of being locked up again.
I’d hoped that Gobi was going to take the flight in her stride and waited nervously near the baggage carousel. When her crate was finally wheeled out to me, the sense of relief I felt was so much greater than I imagined it would be. It didn’t last. One look and I knew that Gobi had struggled on the flight: she had chewed through her leash, smashed the water bottle, and looked like she had gone ten rounds with a boxer. She had obviously spent the journey feeling petrified, and seeing her in this state made me realize getting all the way to the UK was going to be really stressful for this pup.
Kiki took us straight to her kennels and outlined the plan on the way. Once Gobi had spent thirty days in Kiki’s facility, she would be allowed to fly back to England, where she’d spend four months in quarantine. I didn’t like the idea of Gobi spending so much time away from me, but it was by far the best option. I had some work commitments that I needed to get back to, and Kiki promised to send lots of photos and videos of our little girl, keeping me constantly updated about everything. Kiki clearly loved animals, and she seemed to forge an instant bond with Gobi. The feeling was mutual, and I knew they’d both get plenty of cuddles and kisses from each other in the month they would be together.
Even so, saying goodbye to Gobi the next morning was far harder than I anticipated. After all we’d been through, especially in the hotel, I knew she trusted me completely. I’d left her in the hotel or the flat but never for more than an hour or two. She had always greeted me with a massive shower of affection and excitement when I returned. But what would she think when it dawned on her that I wasn’t coming back in a few minutes? What would it be like when I finally saw her again, a month down the line, and yet again I’d leave her in an unfamiliar place full of other animals? I feared it might wound her far more deeply than whatever had scarred her head or damaged her hip.
I’d stopped talking to journalists and TV producers almost as soon as I got to the flat, but that didn’t mean that I had stopped talking with other people about how Gobi’s story could help raise awareness of the importance of looking after abandoned dogs. As well as helping us find a great publisher to work with, Paul de Souza had also introduced us to Jay Kramer, a lawyer who represented some of the biggest writers in the world. Jay knew exactly what he was doing and was helping us think through some of the other ways to share Gobi’s story.
Jay and I had been talking for about a week. When he called later that evening, I assumed he wanted to fill me in on his latest conversations with partners. Instead, he had some unexpected—and unwelcome—news.
“Are you making plans for some kind of website?”
“No,” I said. I had thought about it vaguely but had done nothing about it. “Why?”
“Someone’s just registered at least two domain names that relate to Gobi. They’ve registered the trademark too.”
I was stunned as Jay told me who it was, and I realized I knew the people who were responsible for this. I felt instantly sick and queasy, like I did after I helped Tommy that day. I was struggling to process this new information, and all I could think to say was, “Why?”
“Whoever’s done it is trying to cash in. They know that Gobi’s been found and that she’s coming home, so the story’s about to get even bigger.”
“But nobody else has ever cared for Gobi. Nobody else owns her.”
“Not yet, they don’t.”
My fears ran deep as though I were in a terrifying nightmare. I thought we’d left all the danger behind us in Urumqi, but was Gobi still at risk? If someone was making a play to claim Gobi on the Internet, wouldn’t it make sense for them to try and get Gobi in the flesh? If they had the dog, they could control the story.
Was that why I was being followed by the men in suits and the grey saloon? I’d always thought they were from the government, but was it possible that they were actually reporting to someone else entirely?
These thoughts stayed with me like a mosquito bite. I couldn’t stop returning to them long after my call with Jay ended. The more attention I paid them, the more inflamed and painful these dark fears became.
I spent the entire flight home going over the same thoughts. Images of Gobi getting stolen from Kiki’s kennels flashed through my mind. Conspiracy theories about what might happen cast deep shadows over me. And a desperate desire to make sure that Gobi was okay left me feeling hollow inside.
Added to that, I was thinking about work.
I had been away from my job for almost two weeks, and I worried that I was pushing the limits of the company’s generosity. Everyone had been supportive throughout, and there was never any pressure to return from Urumqi, but I knew my colleagues were working extra hard to cover my workload in my absence. I didn’t want to abuse their kindness or take advantage of it.