06/05/2025
24 DAYS GONE. IZZY’S FIGHT TO SURVIVE.
Twizzler (Izzy) wasn’t just a lost dog. She had no home base. No familiar people, smells, or sounds. No reason to trust anything around her.
After her owner was deported, Izzy and her four siblings were left behind. She spent a few weeks at the shelter before being adopted—but on her way to her new home, she panicked and bolted from the car. She vanished into a world that didn’t know her. And that she didn’t know either.
But we knew her. And we weren’t giving up.
From the minute we got the call, RAD mobilized. We pulled her mama, Eden, into our rescue and brought her to the area, hoping scent trails and familiar pheromones would help Izzy stay nearby. It seemed to help and she lingered in the area. But she was scared, displaced, and constantly on the move in search of food and water.
The location was one of the most complex recovery environments we’ve dealt with: a sprawling mix of dense woods, private large lots of land inaccessible to rescuers, stormwater drainage infrastructure, large occupancy apartment buildings, protected HOA communities, and multilane roadways surrounding a major intersection with high-speed traffic. And it was full of dangers, not just cars and people, but foxes, coyotes, and brutal weather.
We tracked her through four separate corners of this dangerous intersection. She never stayed in one spot more than a few days, which forced us to continuously pivot and adapt. Standard lost dog recovery tools wouldn’t be enough.
We set up food and water stations. Cooked BBQ on site. Installed trail cameras. She blew past traps, ignored familiar scents, and sprinted past even the most tempting meals.
We reached out to Back Country Drone Operators and launched a thermal drone flight on day 14 but couldn’t get a visual of Izzy. We expanded our radius and canvassed surrounding neighborhoods with flyers, talked to business owners, alerted delivery drivers, and walked the streets asking for sightings. Each time she moved, we mapped it. Every lead, text, call, and photo helped us build a fuller picture of her behavior.
We pleaded with the public: “Please don’t chase her. Call us immediately if spotted.” Even well-meaning attempts to help would send her running. She is tiny and very fast.
Izzy lived through on and off severe storms during the first two weeks, followed by 100+ degree heat the last 10 days. Through it all, she survived. But she was burning energy fast and not eating.
We knew from her shelter notes that she was the most fearful of the bunch. She refused treats, cheese, and even chicken from shelter staff. And while lost, she rejected everything we offered—rotisserie chicken, hamburger patties, steak. Nothing worked.
So we focused on water.
We bought electric water fountains and set up large gravity-fed jugs to create a steady drip, something clean and fresh that might lure her in. Still, none of the trap locations felt ideal. Every spot had flaws. But we needed to try. After three weeks of creative problem solving and no progress on attempts, we knew we had to go big.
We chose a location where she seemed to feel safe, and deployed a Missy trap—a large, custom-built, fence-like kennel designed with her behavior in mind. She had shown a pattern of following fence lines for safety, so we hoped this would feel familiar. The Missy trap was rigged with two redundant mechanisms:
• Plan A: A rope tension pulley system that could be triggered from a safe distance
• Plan B: A magnetic sensor with an invisible beam (laser) that would auto-release the door if broken
We also implemented Plan C, placing a standard 48” trap outside the Missy trap along its wall, turning that wall into a second fence line she might follow into a smaller, more familiar trap.
And Plan D was always active: conditioning. If she was’t caught, she’d at least grow more comfortable with the setup as long as a malfunction/failure with the trap wasn’t the issue.
We knew what hadn’t worked. So we returned to the basics: a scatter of kibble and Eden’s favorite treat—duck jerky. We had a bowl of water outside the traps, and eventually one inside each. We monitored her body language from the trail cams and watched as she started to approach, circle, step inside… but she always stop short. She would bolt before getting deep enough to trigger the small trap’s plate. Over and over, it was close, but not quite.
So we brought out the big guns, hit up the local mexican restaurant for barbacoa, steak fajitas and fresh tortillas. And then? Nothing. 8 hours. No sign of her.
We spiraled. Did we push too hard? Was the food too suspicious? Had she been scared off? Was she just full from the earlier scatter?
We were about 48 hours into this trap site. Exhausted. Sweaty. Nervous. We cleared out all the high-value food, refreshed the water, and left just a small amount of kibble in the back of the 48” trap. It was a balance. We needed her hungry, but not desperate. And we knew from recent footage she was already looking severely underweight.
Somehow that work. 30 minutes later, Izzy came out of hiding. Calm. Cautious. She followed the “fence line” of the Missy trap. Stepped into the smaller trap. Walked slowly to the back and triggered the plate.
The door slammed shut. And we had her. Izzy is SAFE.
At the shelter she weighed 20 pounds. The day we secured her? She weighed 14lbs. Her ribs, hips and spine were clearly visible. She was sore, limping, dehydrated, and incredibly lucky to be alive. X-ray show she has multple pelvic fractures, likely from being hit by a car.
But alive she is.
Because she fought.
And because so many people fought for her.
Her will to survive—and our RAD community’s refusal to give up—is what brought her home.
Welcome back, Izzy. You made it.
Check out Izzy and Eden on CBS Austin: https://cbsaustin.com/features/we-are-austin/izzy-and-eden-austins-adorable-adoptable-pups-with-a-heartwarming-tale
Izzy survived. Now let’s help her thrive! Givebutter Fundraiser: https://givebutter.com/CfusWw
