Eventually, with just a few minutes to spare, we got a smile and a stamp in Gobi’s pet passport. We were good to go.
The next morning, driving off the ferry, Lucja and I looked at each other nervously. Would we get stopped by UK border control? Would they find some flaw in the paperwork and send Gobi to London for an extra quarantine period? We approached the booth, held hands, and were surprisingly waved straight through. No checks. No hassle. No delay. Gobi was in the UK.
The drive north to Scotland was slow and easy, and as we passed low-slung hills and wide-open moors, I let my mind drift. I thought about the promise I had made to Gobi and the six months it took to make it happen. I thought back to all the people who donated money to help, the volunteers who spent day and night searching, and all the people worldwide who sent support messages and prayed for us. It wasn’t just me who made this happen; it was the collective power of generous, loving people.
These thoughts brought a tear to my eye. The world was still a loving, kind place.
As the long journey home drew to a close, we drove over the hill and stared at the view. All of Edinburgh was laid out before us: Arthur’s Seat—the mountain that stands guard over the city—the beach to the east, the Pentland Hills to the west. It was a beautiful day, not just because of the clear sky and clean air, and not even because it was my forty-second birthday.
It was perfect because of one simple, single reason.
We were together.
We made our way into the city, the car silent but our heads and hearts full. Turning onto our street, I realized I’d never thought about what it would feel like to walk through my front door, this remarkable little dog tucked under my arm.
I’d never thought about it because I’d never allowed myself to believe it would happen. All the deceit, all the fear, all the worry had weighed heavily on me. I’d never allowed myself the luxury of believing we’d finally do it.
But as the door opened and I saw good friends and loved ones inside, heard the popping of champagne corks and the cheers of people who were there to celebrate with us, I knew exactly what it felt like.
It felt like the beginning of a wonderful new adventure.
The hours and days that followed were busy in ways that reminded me of Urumqi. A TV crew had flown all the way from Australia to capture our return home and interview me. We received calls from journalists all over the world—some I knew well; others I had never spoken to before. They all wanted to know how Gobi had coped with the journey and what life held in store for her now.
I told them all how quickly she was adjusting to this new life, and how she and Lara the cat had already teamed up and taken joint ownership of the couch in our living room. I said that Gobi was an inspiration because she had dealt with the journey as she had dealt with every challenge thrown at her since we met. I told them I was proud of her.
But that was only part of the story. More than a handful of answers would be needed to say everything I wanted to say about Gobi. And sharing the ways in which finding Gobi had changed me would take even longer—especially as I was aware that this new life had only just begun.
Only Gobi knows the answer to many of the questions: Why was she wandering in the Tian Shan? Why did she pick me? What happened when she went missing?
What mattered most then and what still matters most today is this: from the moment I said yes to Gobi, my life has been different. Gobi has turned up the contrast. She has added to all the good things in my life and brought healing to some of the bad.
Gobi’s hip has healed, and the hair has grown back where she had to be shaved for the operation. She doesn’t squeal in pain if the site is inadvertently touched. When walking on soft ground, she will sometimes lift her leg slightly. The vet in Edinburgh says that’s likely a memory habit because placing weight on that hip used to be painful. When Gobi and I now run the hills and trails, her stride is perfect, and keeping up with her is just as difficult as it was in the Gobi Desert.
That first night when we all were finally together, Gobi and Lara took up residence at the foot of the bed, and I heard again the familiar silence of home. Lucja turned to me and quietly asked what I wanted to do the next morning. We had nothing planned, and the first few hours of the day were ours.
I knew exactly what I wanted. I looked at Gobi and then back at Lucja.
“Let’s all go for a run.”
PICTURE SECTION
From the moment I carried her in this position through the river crossing, Gobi has loved being in my arms.
My heart has never forgotten my first dog, Tilly. When my family moved from Roma to Warwick, we had to leave her behind with a farmer.
I was five in this photo; those skinny legs would come in handy one day.
I loved bike riding, moving as fast as I could, and I taught Christie how to ride too.
Garry and me at eight—within a year, it would never be the same again.
My skinny legs kept getting longer, and I started to play cricket and hockey.
My grandmother was my last connection to any real, loving family.
Deon Hansen was my best mate when we were growing up.
My sister and mother were with me on Lucja’s and my wedding day in Italy.
I was sucking in all the water I could during that 2013 155-mile race in the Kalahari Desert.
I had a surprising smile on my face, thanks to Lucja’s being with me after a run in the 2013 Kalahari race.
On day one of the 2014 race across the Kalahari Desert, I was gunning for the lead.
Day six was another marathon in the 2014 Kalahari race.
I nailed the long stage (nearly fifty miles) in six hours and fifty minutes in the Kalahari race in 2014.
I enjoyed a little bit of coolness with the temperature at 122 degrees in the 2014 Kalahari Desert race.
Lucja and I were proud as punch of each other in the 2014 Kalahari Desert: she finished second in the women’s race, and I finished second in the men’s.
I completed a non-stop sixty-two-mile race in the Gobi Desert in 2016.
Urumqi was plastered with these reward posters when Gobi was lost.
Where next? The search team and I worked out our next location to search for Gobi.
We bloody well found her—one of the best nights of my life!
I hosted a celebration dinner for the Ma family and all the volunteers who helped in the search for Gobi.
Richard and I celebrated Gobi’s return.
Gobi and I met Chris for the first time in Beijing. Chris had been instrumental in directing the search party and offering advice to find Gobi.
Gobi and I did some sightseeing outside Beijing at the Great Wall.
Gobi was feeling sorry for herself after that hip operation to mend the injury she suffered in Urumqi.
The time immediately after Gobi’s operation was tough for both of us.
While staying in Beijing, I often had to wear a pollution mask.