Two beloved pet dogs that vanished while they were out for a walk in the hills are safe at home thanks to the smell of grilled sausages.
Miniature schnauzers Charlie and Theo were missing for four days after disappearing in thick fog on the Red Pike fell near Buttermere, Cumbria.
Distraught owners Liz and Graham Hampson launched a rescue campaign and sought help from mountain rescue teams, family and friends.
There was no sign of the dogs as more than 120 people and two drones scoured the hills, so Liz and Graham decided to try to lure them with their favourite bangers.
They set up a barbecue near the spot where Charlie and Theo, who are father and son, vanished and shouted the dogs’ names.
To their amazement, a short time later the dogs appeared through the trees, leading to an emotional reunion.
Liz, 49, from nearby Cockermouth, said: “When they first appeared it was like a mirage. I could not believe it was them.
“My husband ran up the hill to grab them as I was just shaking and crying. I could not function.
“The dogs are just gorgeous, and they are part of our family. It would be horrible not to have them around.
“They absolutely love sausages. They have them every Sunday for breakfast, so if there was one food they were going to come back for, it was sausages.”
Liz and Graham’s son John was walking Charlie, aged seven, and Theo, aged 15 months, on top Red Pike fell on June 16.
The weather turned at lunchtime and a thick mist rolled in, causing the 21-year-old to lose sight of the dogs.
He rang his mum straight away to let her know what had happened, and they immediately started to form a rescue party.
Liz said: “I was beside myself when John called. The dogs walk off lead when there is no livestock around and are used to being on the fells.
“It was a horrible phone call. We called our family and messaged friends and put out an appeal for people to look out for them on Facebook and Twitter.
“I also have a few friends who are part of mountain rescue groups so I asked if they could keep their eyes peeled if they were called out to a rescue.”
Liz and Graham spent the first night camping on the fell and calling the dogs’ names trying to get them to come back.
They then spent the next few days over Father’s Day weekend hiking all around the area in hot weather trying to find them.
On the morning of June 19, Mark Steel, a GP and member of Cockermouth Mountain Rescue Team, said the dogs were likely on the other side of the fell, near Gillerthwaite.
Together they hatched a plan to get the dogs back, and started barbecuing sausages.
Liz said: “It was great to see them appear through the trees.”
“They were thin, and they smelled, but thankfully they’d kept themselves hydrated in the heat.
“We took them to the vets the next day and they were given a clean bill of health.”
She added: “My son is in the navy and we rang him first to tell him. A huge cheer went up on his ship.
“Charlie and Theo are actually dad and son so we’re now joking they had a Father’s Day weekend.
“And they’ve told us nothing about what happened. I guess what goes on tour, stays on tour.”
The pet I’ll never forget: Ella the puppy threw up on me, snubbed me and after 10 years decided to love me
Mum, Dad, my brother Michael: everyone in the family got more affection from our ridgeback-staffie cross. And guess whose bed she used to poo on…
I think the tone was set when Ella threw up over me on the way back from the Dogs Trust. She was three months old, rolling around on the back seat between me and my twin brother, Michael (we’d just turned seven), and wasn’t enjoying her first trip in a car. She could have been sick anywhere – over the seat, over the floor – but for some reason she decided to climb on to me first.
It was the start of a beautiful but strangely one-sided friendship. Ella, a ridgeback-staffie cross, was the perfect dog: playful, energetic, naughty and tolerant. She would let us poke and prod her without complaint, turn her ears inside-out or dress her up in T-shirts or the thick woollen poncho my Greek Cypriot grandma knitted her for the British winter. And she was endlessly loving, at least to the other members of the family. Me? Too often it was as if I didn’t exist. If Michael and I were sitting on the sofa, she’d bound up to him. If I came home after a day out with my dad, he was the one she’d jump at. If I tried to take her for a walk by myself, she’d drag her feet and insist that I fetch my brother.
To add insult to injury, about once a year she would do a poo in the house. Not just anywhere, though: she’d climb the stairs to my room and leave it in a neat pile on top of my bed.
I can’t pretend I wasn’t offended by Ella’s attitude – I loved her just as much as anyone. But it took me a while to realise that in her eyes we were both bitches fighting for our place in the pack. I read that dogs are 98.8% wolf, even yappy little chihuahuas. Ella was a definite she-wolf and my mother (she who opened the tin of dog food every night) was the undisputed alpha female. Ella could handle that fact, but she didn’t want to be the omega female. That was me.
Working out the reasons for Ella’s lack of sisterhood, understanding that her indifference was atavistic and not just casual, didn’t make me any less jealous of my brother, who always took great pleasure in the fact that Ella seemed to prefer him. But I resigned myself to the situation. And then one day (happy ending, anyone?) everything changed. I must have been 16 or 17, we’d been away for a fortnight in France, and when we got back it was me she ran up to first, whining and twisting with pleasure at seeing me again. After that it was like all those years of competition had never happened. We were best friends for ever, or at least for the couple of years she had left. Ella finally loved me.
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