Dion Leonard was competing in a 115-mile ultra-marathon in China when Gobi, a stray dog, appeared and started to run the race with him. Here, he tells his story.<\/b>
\nThey say it takes a village to raise a child. When I fell in love with a stray dog in China, during one of the most gruelling endurance events in the world, I discovered it takes much more than a village to rescue a pet. I needed the help of half the planet.
The dog\u2019s name is Gobi, because I first saw her on the cold, rugged slopes of the Tian Shan mountains bordering the Gobi desert in Western China. She was born to run in the hills, a true climber. When she gallops ahead of me, she becomes more alive with every bound. Her tail wags so fast it blurs, her whole body bounces and pulses with joy. She looks back at me, and I could swear she\u2019s grinning.
But the very first time I saw her, she wasn\u2019 t running. She was begging.
It was the end of the first day of an ultra-marathon; a seven-day, 155-mile run in some of the most forbidding territory anywhere on Earth \u2014 freezing peaks, incessant wind and that desolate, lifeless scrubland known as the Gobi desert. And I was going to run across it.
After dark, the other runners were sitting round a fire, chatting about how tough the first stretch had been.
I joined them to boil some water for a packet meal \u2014 dehydrated chilli con carne. And then I saw a small dog, sandy-coloured with great dark eyes and a funny-looking moustache and beard.
It was walking between the chairs, getting up on its hind legs and charming people into giving it bits of food. Getting ultra-marathon runners to part with any of their food is no mean feat \u2014 they need every calorie they can get. Clever dog, I thought, but I won\u2019 t be feeding you.
At the start line next morning I looked down and saw the dog again. It was standing by my feet, apparently transfixed by the bright yellow gaiters on my shoes (gaiters are pieces of fabric that trail runners wear around their ankles to keep debris from getting into their trainers) . Its tail was wagging constantly.
Then it did the strangest thing. It looked up, right into my eyes, and I couldn\u2019 t look away. I heard the marshal counting down to the start of the race. \u2018Go on, get away,\u2019 I told the dog. \u2018You\u2019 ll be trampled.\u2019 I waved my foot at the dog, and it took a playful bite at the gaiter.
And then we were off, and the moving gaiters made the game even more fun for the dog, who was dancing around my feet. It kept this up for a quarter of a mile and then disappeared. I told myself I was glad to see it go, because I had been worried I\u2019 d trip over it. But then, after hours of hard going through steep forest, there it was again, trotting alongside me \u2014 as if running nearly two miles up towards the sky were second nature.
When we crossed the line at the end of the day, I sensed people were cheering more loudly for the dog than they were for me. A volunteer brought it a bucket of water, which it lapped greedily. I sat down next to a tent and pulled out some dried meat. The dog\u2019s eyes were fixed on me.
With a piece of biltong meat half-way to my mouth, it struck me that I hadn\u2019 t seen the dog eat a thing all day. Even now, though it must be famished, it wasn\u2019 t trying to steal food. \u2018Here you go,\u2019 I said, tossing half the meat down. The dog chewed, swallowed, spun round a few times and lay down. Within seconds it was cuddled up beside me, snoring.
Some of the other guys came over to tell me how cute my new friend looked asleep. \u2018You\u2019 ve got to give it a name,\u2019 said one. A quick check told us that this dog was a female. \u2018I\u2019 m calling her Gobi,\u2019 I said.
Gobi was there at the start line with me next morning and for the rest of the week. On the sixth day, we reached a river, at least 150ft wide. I waded in, concentrating to keep my balance on the slippery rocks and in the fast current. My pack was high on my back but my provisions would be ruined if I fell into the water.
I assumed that Gobi would be paddling along behind me, until I heard her barking and whining. With every step I took, the sound became more desperate. I was a quarter of the way across the river when I did something I had never done during a race before. I turned back. I tucked Gobi under my left arm and, using my right for balance, edged back out into the fast-running water. Gobi didn\u2019 t wriggle. Her head was level with my face and when I looked at her I could swear she gave me a look of love and gratitude.
When I finally struggled up the other bank, in soaking wet running gear with a dog clutched to my chest, there was an old man sitting on a donkey at the side of the road, watching us. I can\u2019 t imagine what he thought of Gobi and me.
For the last section in the desert, with temperatures rising as high as 135f (57c) , I was afraid that Gobi would get tired and dehydrated. I gave her to one of the organisers, who promised to take care of her in their convoy. She\u2019 d be waiting for me at the finish line.
I missed having the dog at my side. The way she ran \u2014 determined, consistent, committed \u2014 inspired me, too. She didn\u2019 t let hunger or fatigue slow her down. I couldn\u2019 t wait to see her again.
As I came round the final bend, I could see Gobi, sitting in the shade and scanning the horizon. When she saw me, she was a blur of brown fur, tearing over the ground towards me, tail up, little tongue flapping.
That night, I told some of the other runners that I had reached a decision out there in the broiling desert. When I flew home to Edinburgh to rejoin my wife, Lucja, I was going to take Gobi with me. To my surprise and delight, my friends immediately offered to chip in towards the costs. They wanted to see Gobi safe, too. \u2018Any dog that tough,\u2019 said one, \u2018deserves a happy ending.\u2019
First, though, I had to break the news to Lucja. I picked up the phone and dialled with trepidation. But before I could say much more than \u2018hello\u2019 , Lucja was asking about Gobi \u2014 she had been reading the blogs written by other competitors, and they were all talking about my dog. Some of them had even uploaded pictures. \u2018She\u2019s a pretty little thing, isn\u2019 t she?\u2019 Lucja said. \u2018Are you bringing her home? As soon as I read about her, I knew you\u2019 d want to.\u2019
She began to research how to get Gobi home, and we quickly realised that it would not be easy . or cheap. Apart from the cost of the flight back to Heathrow, she would have to spend months in quarantine.
And first, we\u2019 d have to get her out of China \u2014 a country that wins the international prize for red tape. The authorities there insisted she had to remain in the country for 30 days for medical examination.
After that, Gobi would have to be transported across China from the remote city of Urumqi, near the border with Kazakhstan, where the race had been held, to Beijing. Then we\u2019 d need a crate, and a flight home. I was looking at a minimum of \u00a35,000, even before the \u00a31,500 cost of quarantine.
But, strange as it may sound, Gobi was already part of the family. And you don\u2019 t count the cost of family.
I flew back to Edinburgh, leaving Gobi in the hands of one of the race organisers, Nurali, who promised my little dog would be kept safe. By the time Lucja and I were reunited, I\u2019 d already had emails from complete strangers who had read on the running blogs that I had gained a pet. Several people offered to donate money towards the expense.
Lucja and I realised that Gobi\u2019s courage and determination had touched a lot of people. We set up a crowdfunding page, an online appeal for donations small and large, and immediately we saw a response. My phone chirped every time someone gave a pound or two, and I loved reading the donors\u2019 comments. Helping Gobi made people happy.
Within 48 hours, I had a call from a newspaper which ran a page of pictures of me and Gobi, under the headline \u2018I will not desert my ultra-marathon pal\u2019 . Then the donations really took off. My phone went wild. Someone I\u2019 d never met gave \u00a325, and moments later another \u00a325 arrived, and then \u00a3100.
I was astounded. I could barely believe it was happening. Within 24 hours we had reached our \u00a35,000 target, and I was suddenly in demand for TV and radio stations from Scotland to New Zealand. Even the official media in North Korea wanted to talk to me.
My worries about hidden expenses and red tape evaporated overnight. Thanks to the generosity of so many people from all over the world, I knew beyond doubt that we could bring Gobi home.
There was just one problem. Nurali, the woman looking after the dog in China, had stopped answering our emails.
I was getting increasingly concerned at the silence. After three days, and some frantic phone calls, I got a response. Nurali had been away in America. While she was gone, her father-in-law had been looking after Gobi.
And the dog had run away.
My head swam. My stomach turned over. Nurali assured me that she had people out looking for the dog, but that did nothing to calm me. It was hard to get a clear answer about anything but, as far as I could tell, Gobi could already have been missing for ten days.
Immediately, I got in touch with a dog charity in China and had posters printed, offering a \u00a31,000 reward for Gobi\u2019s safe return. They were handed out all over Urumqi. But I knew Gobi could easily travel a couple of miles every 20 minutes \u2014 in ten days, she could have gone anywhere in Asia. What if she was searching for me in the Tian Shan mountains, where we had met?
I posted updates on the crowd-funding page, assuring people that if the unthinkable happened and Gobi was not found, I wouldn\u2019 t cash any of the pledged donations. But people weren\u2019 t concerned about the money \u2014 they, too, were devastated that Gobi was lost.
Many sent positive messages full of sympathy, prayer and good wishes. Others warned that Gobi might have been kidnapped, for ransom, though we had not received any demands.
Others expressed fears that she might be killed and eaten. But that was very unlikely. Urumqi is a largely Muslim city and dogs are seen as unclean. Unlike in some parts of China, they are not food animals. Then the news hit the national Press, and I felt, perhaps irrationally, that some people blamed me for Gobi\u2019s disappearance. I hadn\u2019 t taken enough care of her. Part of me felt that, too.
There was only one thing to do. I needed to fly out and join the search. \u2018I have to,\u2019 I told Lucja. \u2018If I don\u2019 t, and we never find her, I won\u2019 t be able to live with myself.\u2019
But when I arrived in Urumqi, the reality of the situation caught up with me, and I became convinced that all was hopeless.
Most people couldn\u2019 t understand why I was so determined to find a missing dog. They seemed to think that any old mutt would do. After I did an appeal on a local news station, a woman called to claim she\u2019 d seen Gobi. . in a dream vision. According to her psychic senses, my dog was in the mountains.
We got into blazing arguments with the litter wardens who objected to our leaflets. Up to 50 people had joined the search as word spread, but my hopes were sinking lower every day.
When I\u2019 m running I can block out pain and hunger. But the fear of losing Gobi was with me every waking minute. I couldn\u2019 t flip a switch in my mind and stop caring \u2014 I loved her too much.
After a week with no reliable sightings, despite all the publicity, I was close to despair. Then my phone buzzed: someone had sent me a photo of a brown dog with a nasty scar on its head. \u2018This is Gobi,\u2019 the message read.
I almost ignored it. That didn\u2019 t look like my dog. She didn\u2019 t have a scar for one thing. But there was something about the eyes…
Against my better judgment, I drove out to an address I was given, in the wealthiest part of Urumqi. I was afraid that this was a hoax or a scam, perhaps an attempt to sell me a different dog. But as we arrived at the gated community and knocked at a door, something incredible happened.
The door opened \u2014 and a streak of sandy brown shot across the room, jumping at my knees and barking madly. There could be no question. It was Gobi.
The family who had taken her in were well-off animal lovers, aghast at the thought of any reward. They had found her at the roadside, and recognised her from news reports. But I strongly suspect that Gobi had not simply run away \u2014 I think she was kidnapped, by criminals who read about the initial crowdfunding operation, and then abandoned her when the publicity got too hot.
One of her hips was dislocated. A vet thought she had been probably been hit by a car, but he predicted she would make a full recovery.
And he was right. Once Gobi had flown home, business class, on the seat beside me, she responded so well to treatment that we were soon out running together.
When she runs, Gobi is a ball of energy. Our favourite route is up Arthur\u2019s Seat, the grassy mountain that dominates Edinburgh\u2019s skyline. She charges up the slope and then turns, tongue lolling, ears forward, chest puffed. Her face is bursting with happiness and her eyes are bright with a message for me \u2014 \u2018Come on!\u2019 she\u2019s saying. \u2018Let\u2019s go!\u2019<\/p>\n

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