“She told me that she was a psychic and that she was getting strong feelings from Boris. They were communicating. My first reaction was, Hey, lady, if you’re communicating with my dog, tell him to come home! She told me that she didn’t want a reward, she didn’t want pay, she just wanted to get Boris back to me. I didn’t believe in that hocus-pocus-type stuff, but I just wanted my baby home. I wasn’t going to turn away anyone volunteering to help find him.”
Paula turned out to be more than just a volunteer. She was a force to be reckoned with.
“She was pushing me, and I thought I was the aggressive one. She told me, ‘Come on, let’s go, you can do it, you can do it. Keep going, keep going.’ She was really doing the legwork, really going out there getting the flyers out.”
“I knew Boris was alive,” Paula said. “And I knew he was desperate to find Barbara again. He was very confused and very, very sad. Every time I linked in psychically to Boris, the sadness, confusion, and heartache were overwhelming.”
“We went from neighborhood to neighborhood. We just kept looking every night, in the cold. We just never stopped,” Barbara said.
“What really kept me going was this little dog that had a really big psychic voice that said, ‘Please help me,’” Paula said.
But after days of searching, Barbara’s hopes began to fade.
Barbara remembered, “New Year’s had come and gone, and it was so cold. With the wind-chill factor it was 25 below zero outside. All I could do was cry, I couldn’t imagine how Boris was surviving.”
Meanwhile, Barbara’s friends and family were worried sick about her and urged her to accept reality and get on with her life. But Barbara wouldn’t give up.
“Some people told me, ‘Oh, it’s only a dog,’” Barbara recalled. “You know, get over it, get another one. And I told them, ‘You don’t understand. There is no closure. I can’t live my life knowing that he’s out there, he’s cold, he’s hungry, he’s starving.’ I said, ‘I’m not gonna give up on him.’”
And the media was standing by Barbara’s decision.
Laura Italiano says, “We started running a story a week in the Post, and Barbara kept us well-fed with updates. She felt that if the newspaper kept up a steady drumbeat to search for this dog, that public attention wouldn’t just die down. And he wouldn’t die out there, unmourned, unsearched for.”
But all the publicity only produced more false leads. The phone rang around the clock with sightings of strays from people anxious to help, but all turned out to be dead ends. Barbara was completely physically and emotionally exhausted. She didn’t know how much longer she could continue.
Luckily, she had Paula Forester to help keep her spirits up. “Her energy just kept me going,” she said, “and really it was a godsend that she did come along.”
Paula said, “The worst thing you can do is get discouraged. I just knew he was out there. I told Barbara not to give up. I don’t care if it takes two months; I don’t care if it takes three months. The dog is coming home. Alive.”
Several weeks later, despite all of Laura Italiano’s best efforts, the publicity and the media attention hadn’t produced a single solid lead. But a strange recurring dream was about to change the parameters of the search.
Paula tossed and turned for hours every night, dreaming of Boris. She said, “I would get images of Boris sleeping in tires, of him having a bloody foot, starving and very cold. I knew that I was picking up what the dog was feeling. Boris was freezing and desperate.”
The dream eventually led Paula to an automotive shop in Queens.
“I must have driven by this one auto repair place a hundred times. I actually went up and approached one of the workers there, asking about a stray. The man was so busy, he really kind of brushed me off.”
It seemed like just another dead end. Unfortunately, at this point, the media was also beginning to question its involvement in the search. Even the indomitable Laura was giving up hope. “Maybe we were doing the wrong thing keeping this story going, because the more time that passed, the less likely it was that there would be a happy ending.”
Barbara had to make a tough decision. “I didn’t know whether to keep going on with this endless search or get on with my life. It was really getting to the point where reality started checking in with me. But Paula said to me, ‘Barbara, if you give up, this dog’s going to give up and die. The only reason he’s staying alive is because he knows you’re out there looking for him.’”
After weeks and weeks of searching, Paula received a tip on yet another sighting of Boris. Paula received a call at her apartment from a stranger in Queens, a man who said, “I think I have the dog that’s in the flyer. There’s been a stray dog living in this garbage-filled abandoned lot next to my house. And sometimes we throw leftovers over the fence because we feel sorry for him. It kind of looks like the dog in the picture.”
The call brought Paula back to a familiar location. The man’s apartment was next door to the automotive shop she’d visited days before. The man had brought the dog into the apartment. Paula stood in his apartment, looked at the dog, looked at the picture, then looked at the dog again. “His eyes were soulless, they were dead. He was filthy. He was a different color. He had a slash in his foot, almost all the way through. I walked up to him and said, ‘Boris, is that you?’ And then one ear went up and one ear went down. And I said, Oh, my God. It’s Boris after fifty-two days.”
Her hands shaking, Paula immediately called Barbara. “Barbara,” she said, “we have Boris.”
“I can’t go and look at any more dogs,” Barbara answered. “Are you sure it’s him? I’m so tired. I don’t know how much more I can take. Are you sure?”
“Somebody called me. He’s inside a house. This is definitely your dog. You gotta come here now.”
“Paula, I can’t go through this anymore,” Barbara said. She didn’t have an ounce of strength left.
“Look, I’m telling you. One ear up, one ear down. You’ve gotta come down here. He’s only a mile from the airport.”
“I’m on my way.”
Weeks of sorrow and worry were about to come to an end. “I went inside this apartment complex and there he was, this little dog coming around the corner peeking its head out at me. And I looked and I said, ‘That’s not my dog. Boris has beautiful eyes. He’s got a tan coat. This dog’s skinny.’”
“Barbara, please,” Paula begged. “Just look again.”
Barbara kneeled down and looked the limping, bedraggled dog in the eye. “Boris,” she called softly, “Boris, is that you?” And he looked up at her with one ear up and one ear down, and suddenly Barbara let out a yell. “Oh, my God, Boris, it is you! It’s you!” She was shaking all over, and suddenly her legs gave out. She found herself sitting on the floor with Boris licking her face, crying. Everyone else in the room was crying right along with her.
“I missed you so much,” Barbara told Boris tearfully. “I love you. I can’t believe they found you!”
“It was the most beautiful thing,” Paula remembered. “It was worth every minute of whatever I contributed as a part of this bigger picture. It was the best reward and the most miraculous. And it was a miracle. It was a chance in a billion.”
That night, Barbara kept her promise. After weeks of waiting, her Christmas tree was finally lit to welcome Boris home. “We’ll make it all better,” she told Boris. “Look at the pretty tree with the lights. You’re home. You’re home, baby!”
The next morning, a triumphant New York Post headline greeted all of New York City. And Boris immediately became a media darling.
A reporter said, “After six weeks