Advertisement

Divorce Case Goes Straight to the Dogs

Share

While visiting in Bakersfield the other day I read a story in the Bakersfield Californian that I’d like to pass on: It is a dog story for our times.

I am indebted to the Californian for the following account, which I have taken, not verbatim, but in detail, from its pages.

It concerns a collie named either Lady or Missy, as the case may be. The story begins in 1980 when a young man named Gary Jones bought the dog and named her Lady. She was a smart dog and Jones trained her to do tricks. She won two ribbons in a 1981 dog show.

Advertisement

“I raised her from a puppy,” Jones said later. “I loved and cared for her. Once a month I took her for grooming to the Proud Pooch.”

That came to an end Dec. 14, 1984, when Lady disappeared from Jones’ yard. He thought maybe she had been abducted by children, or followed them away, because she loved children. Jones called the pound but was told no collie had been picked up.

Records later showed, however, that on Dec. 14, the day she had disappeared, Lady was picked up by the dog catcher and was logged into the county animal shelter the next day. On Dec. 16, a Bakersfield woman named Melanie Ansolabehere saw the dog in the pound. Three days later she returned, paid the fees and took the dog home.

Mrs. Ansolabehere named the collie Missy. Missy soon became a member of the family. She even befriended Mrs. Ansolabehere’s cockateel, Ichabod Crane. Missy lived with the Ansolabeheres for just over three years. Then, on Jan. 12 of this year, a visitor left a gate open and Missy wandered out.

Now comes the coincidence. On that same day, Jones’ mother was out riding her bicycle and saw Lady drinking from a puddle. She recognized the dog by a black spot on her tail. She called out, “Lady, is that you?” and the dog came to her. Mrs. Jones fetched her son.

As Mrs. Jones was later to testify, the dog ran to Jones, followed him to his car and jumped in, as she had seen her do many times before. Jones took Lady home and cleaned her up.

Advertisement

The story came to the attention of The Californian, which likes relief from war, violence and wrongdoing as much as the next paper, and Jones and Lady were featured in a front-page story with picture. Man finds long-lost dog.

That’s a pretty good dog story as is, but it gets better.

Mrs. Ansolabehere’s brother saw the picture and called his sister: “Missy’s on the front page of the paper,” he told her.

Mrs. Ansolabehere filed a dog theft report. During the investigation she confronted Jones and the dog. Her husband testified later, “Her head and ears perked up when she saw Melanie and me.”

No criminal charge was filed. But Mrs. Ansolabehere filed a civil suit seeking custody of the dog. A hearing was held on March 30 before West Kern Municipal Judge Jack E. Lund.

As Steve E. Swenson wrote in The Californian, “Judge Lund didn’t follow Solomon’s example by ordering the Lassie-type dog split with a sword.”

But he did the next best thing.

Lund observed that neither party disputed the identity of the dog; both considered the dog more than a pet; each had equal time of possession; each had shown ownership, and the dog accepted both. Then he ordered temporary joint custody, pending trial of a lawsuit brought by either party. Jones is to have possession the first half of every month, Mrs. Ansolabehere the second half.

Advertisement

After the hearing Mrs. Ansolabehere said, “I didn’t think it was quite fair to the animal. It will create confusion for her, going from one house to the next.” Mrs. Ansolobehere felt that if the dog were property, like a car stereo, she would have had full custody. “But she’s being treated as a child. It’s almost like a divorce case, fighting over a child.”

Jones said: “I’ve got mixed emotions. Both of us care for the dog and we’re worried about her. But we are not the issue. It’s the dog. . . . The dog has feelings too. . . . It’s like divorced parents splitting up and having a custody dispute.”

Lady-Missy will soon find out what it’s like to be a child of divorce.

Advertisement