2023-12-24 10:26:00
He was a little dog, a Maltese, sweet and affectionate. One day, Banana disappeared. Catherine looked for him everywhere again and again. Everything she could do, she did. She lived in Rhode-Saint-Genèse, a residential area of villas where thefts and burglaries were not unusual.
We will say that it is only a dog and that a dog can be replaced. Not for Catherine Coles who has been thinking about Banana for twenty years and wants the truth. Who took away this little ball of fur who was only waiting for love and tenderness?
Disappearance
It is August 30, 2003, a Saturday. “We were coming back from shopping for the weekend. At the time we didn’t have a gate. Why anyway, since Banana never went away.”
Except that day, Banana slipped away while she and her husband were unloading the trunk. By the time we realized it, it was too late. They shouted Banana, Banana. “For sure he would have come back. We looked for him for days and days, further and further away, but we never saw him again.”
Why did they call him Banana? Still, the name stuck. “He was smart as hell. He followed me to stores, to the hairdresser, on walks, to the office. My colleagues loved it. He was their mascot. Banana adapted to all situations. He got ahead of me when he saw that I was going to take the moped. Banana jumped into my backpack and presto, the two of us went for a walk. It was truly Banana-the-blessed”.
On the beaches where dogs are not allowed, Catherine had taught him to dig in the sand and Banana, who had understood, hid like this, for hours, under the deckchair.
Banana would be twenty-four years old today. No doubt he’s still alive. ©DR
Non-existent social networks
Facebook was invented in March 2004. Six months too late since her disappearance occurred at the end of August 2003. Unable to rely on the social network, Catherine called on the press. The DH headlined: “Where are you Banana?”
Last summer, for the twentieth anniversary of the disappearance, Catherine placed flowers at the place where her dog disappeared. “I’ve had three since then, but none have replaced Banana in my heart. I feel guilty. Guilty of being inattentive for three minutes”.
Catherine continues: “I have been looking for Banana for at least ten years. Dogs are like us. They change appearance as they age. When I came across an owner walking a bichon, I approached him and questioned him, taking care not to arouse suspicion. I was watching his dog and both of their reactions. What if it was Banana? I suffered from it. My health took a hit. At the office, I was lucky that the employer understood me. I was receiving calls. People wanted to help me. Many shared my feelings.”
Banana was ahead of his mistress when he saw that she was going to take her moped. ©DR
Great reward
She offered rewards: four times the price paid at the merchant in Knokke. It wasn’t nothing, but no one took the bait.
The searches were unsuccessful despite the thousand posters stuck on walls, poles, in hairdressers, grocers, bakers, booksellers, in supermarkets, gas stations, the police. And despite the intervention of Veeweyde, the Blue Cross, Help Animals, shelters contacted in Brussels, Flemish Brabant and BW, veterinarians and 255 grooming salons. No bichon could pass twenty kilometers without Catherine being alerted. But no one saw Banana again.
Catherine Coles concludes that Banana did not leave alone. For her, the intervention of a third party is obvious. His dog had never strayed very far. He would have answered the calls. Banana was chipped. He wore their phone number around his neck. If an accident had occurred, the roads would have picked him up on the side of the road. The neighbors knew him. Everyone knew about it. None crossed him.
The couple has since moved. But Catherine returns regularly to the scene. “What was he thinking? Did he think I abandoned him? What did they do to him? Did we treat him well? He was beautiful. It was worth the money. Was it removed for breeding?“
Banana would be twenty-four years old today. No doubt he’s still alive. “Whatever happened, he is no longer in this world.” But Mrs Coles didn’t give up. “I want to know who stole it and I want to know why. I want to know what we did to him. I will never forgive myself for those two or three minutes when I wasn’t paying attention as I should have”.
On August 30, Catherine Coles returned to the scene. For her, it wasn’t sentimentality. She lit a candle, which burned all night.
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