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  It was no secret I wanted my own dog. I even wrote about it in my first book. Rebecca called me one morning and said to look at the newspaper. I did and saw a litter of ten-week-old puppies called Boxadors for sale. Half Lab, half boxer—perfecto!

  I remember the day that we went and got my dog. It was a beautiful blue-sky day, and I was so excited. So excited that I didn’t realize we were being followed. It was weird because I had made a couple jokes as we left about a funny-looking car parked down the street from where we were staying. The tabloids thought they were so smart and thought they could hide in the small community we lived in. The whole community knew they were there. Tabloid reporters look exactly like you think they would: a bit greasy, rumpled, and desperate. Their cars are either rentals or beat-up old cars. Good to know if you ever think they’re following you.

  The farm where the puppies lived was in the middle of nowhere. I remember thinking that if the big SUV we had thought was following us was still following, I would be able to spot it. After checking in my rearview mirror, I didn’t see anything suspicious.

  My focus switched to the beautiful, wiggly puppies in front of me. Thinking, How will I ever choose just one out of the three cute, exuberant puppies? There were three boys left of the litter, all black with a little bit of white on their chests. One looked like it had a pattern of a butterfly on it, so I was going to pick him, but then one of them came and sat right in my lap, and I knew he was the one. He seemed right at home and very confident he was mine. Back then I could still pick him up, and so I held him close and told him we were going home. Rebecca took a picture of me and my new puppy that I later used for the back cover of my book, A Stolen Life. I was so happy. Finally, a dog of my own!

  A car pulled across the street on this little country lane. The driver had something in his lap. It didn’t look like much, and the car was a nondescript white. Rebecca and I noticed him but did not think much of it. The next day I discovered my private moment was captured for the world to see. No choice now. He had seized a part of my day. At first I felt sick. Maybe I would have to hide again. I learned about the picture from Nanny Goat. She called and told me. At first I thought I had done something wrong. I should have realized who that man was in that car. But then I realized it had nothing to do with anything I should or should not have done. He was in the wrong, not me. I had no reason to run and hide. No one would take my freedom away again.

  These intrusions have happened more than once. I can’t tell you I have gotten used to them because I don’t think you ever can or will. Luckily, they have stopped now. The worst were when they took pictures of the girls. To me, taking pictures of my daughters was unfair game. We never asked for any of this. It’s not like we are the Kardashians or anyone looking for fame. On one occasion I think someone told the tabloids where we were camping. Can you imagine that? I try not to think about that anymore; it just makes me feel terrible and reminds me of being hunted. All those years of being invisible and then suddenly I can’t hide if I want to.

  That day will be forever in my mind. It was the best day ever, taking my puppy home. But it also holds a negative vibe for me because we were followed and my private moment was taken from me. Taking care of a puppy was a big responsibility. Like being a mom in some ways to a new child.

  We had our four cats living with us that we had rescued from the backyard we were held in. They were all from the same litter, and we had named them Zelda, Emma, Tyson, and Mousey. My cats hated me the first couple months for bringing home a big black creature that wiggled and squirmed all over them and was such an undignified creature, or so I imagine they thought. They eventually forgave me and warmed up to him. He became a big, cozy, warm blanket that they could cuddle up with. Those cats mean so much to my daughters and me. They were cared for by strangers after our recovery and then given back to us. You can’t imagine what that meant to my girls and me. We lost a few cats from not being able to take them to the vet, and others we had to leave behind because rescuers could not find them. To this day, my daughters and I are very sad when we think of them. We hope they are okay and maybe even living on someone’s couch, free and happy.

  Those first few weeks with my new puppy were some of the worst of my life. He became deathly sick. He would be playing one minute and then get uncontrollable shivers that racked his body. He also threw up everything he would eat. I took him to the vet, and they said he had parvovirus and that only a small percentage of puppies made it through this deadly disease. I had no idea where he could have gotten it. I had taken him to the vet to get his vaccinations, and he had been strong and healthy then. A few days later he was fighting for his life. I had to leave him with the vet for him to be hooked up to IV fluids. It was so hard leaving him. The next day after a fitful night’s sleep, I received a call from the vet. They told me I could come and pick him up. I was surprised he was recovering so quickly. They said they were surprised, too. They knew he was getting better when they discovered he had chewed through the IV! When I brought him home, I had to bleach the areas where he went to the bathroom because I learned that the parvo virus could live in the soil and infect the next dog. In fact, that could be how he had gotten it in the first place.

  I made him chicken and rice for his dinner with a little ginger root mixed in to help calm his tummy. We slept on the couch every night together, so I could take him out to the potty because he still had the runs sometimes. I was so glad he was going to be okay, though. After that ordeal, I finally picked a name for him: Bull. Stubborn and strong just like a bull.

  Beware what you name your pets. I thought I had picked such a creative name. A name that forever connected my new puppy to me and epitomized who he was. I thought, I am a Taurus, and your name shall be Bull, little puppy. He had been through much during his so-far short life. After the ordeal with parvo, Bull grew fast and so did his stubborn nature. (My mom told me that was the nickname she called me as a child.) Is that how I survived? Pure stubbornness?

  Puppy-training classes came once a week. I had imagined myself being the dog whisperer and training this puppy to become the most well behaved dog in human history. Well, at the least how to sit and stay. I really wanted to prove I could train and have a well-behaved dog. As a little girl, I had promised my mom that if I ever got a dog, that’s what I would do. I quickly learned that sometimes you get what you need and not what you want. My beautiful thirty-pound puppy was not easily trained. He had a mind of his own. He became very bonded to me, and I took him everywhere. At first he didn’t like the car, but I gave him treats and he quickly decided he loved car rides. My trainer said I shouldn’t let him off leash so much and loose on the property. She recommended keeping him tied when I wasn’t home. I tried a few times, but I just couldn’t.

  Bull quickly decided he would follow wherever I went, and when I wasn’t home instead of tying him up, which I just couldn’t do, I let him be in the closed-off garden on the property. For some reason, making him do things just didn’t work, but if I made it so it felt like something he decided, he learned so much quicker and it stuck. Weekly jaunts into town to work on “heel” and “come” lasted for a few months but just felt boring for us both. My dreams of being the dog whisperer died a slow death. What emerged was something far more precious to me: a friendship. We learned our own style of training after that. I anticipated his reactions and learned how to train the behaviors I needed him to have but that worked for him, too. He likes routine, and I don’t. So we have compromised and worked out that sometimes we play stick at night and sometimes we play ball in the morning. He loves playing with the horses. He’s still such a puppy at heart at the age of five. When the horses are in the arena, he loves to run with them on the track around the outside he has made. He’s the fastest dog I have ever seen and reminds me of Crash in so many ways. I’m glad he had the opportunity to know and play with Crash before he left us.

  Today Bull is a ninety-pound, sleek-muscled, happy dog. I have learned so much from him.
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  • My perfect walks on the beach are instead loud and sometimes sandy runs on the beach.

  • Even though I have Labrador in me, water is not for everyone and don’t waste it on me!

  • Don’t read before bed; I don’t like it! (We’ve had to compromise on this one. Instead of going straight up on the bed, he waits till I put the book down and turn off the light.)

  • Make sure you really want me when you call me or don’t bother to call me.

  • Love is not always perfect. Love is unconditional and free.

  One day he taught me the most important lesson yet. He taught me to deal with the anxiety of not knowing where he was. I had left for a few hours when I got a call. Mom said Bull was missing. I was in a store, maybe even Walmart, when I got the news. My heart exploded in fear. I told myself to be calm. It was going to be okay. I called Rebecca; she was in session and didn’t answer. Everything went black. What if he did not return? My mind raced with every scary thought running through my head. I told myself he ran away or he was taken. Perhaps he was running down the street looking for me. What if he was lost and never came back? The terror I felt inside me made me sick. I couldn’t even think straight. I told myself to keep calm. I promised myself he would be okay and that it would work out. I pushed the tears back and mentally began to prepare for searching for him. I remembered a recent picture of him I would post around town. We would find him, I told myself, struggling to keep the doubts away. I drove home in terror but pretending I was fine. Having an action plan made me feel so much better. As I drove into my driveway, the emotions welled up again. What if I couldn’t find him? What if . . . Just then, there he was at the top of the driveway standing next to my mom. He saw my car and ran quickly toward me. I threw the car in park, jumped out, and ran toward him. As cheesy as it sounds, I was crying. My mom was laughing, and Bull was really no more or less excited to see me than on any other day. He jumped up (something we were still working on) and placed a big, sloppy dog kiss on my face. “Where were you?” I asked, not really expecting an answer. My mom came over and gave me a big hug. She said “Jayce, I found him in the shed out back. He must have wandered in when I went to get the gardening tools. He was right there the whole time!”

  Me with new puppy.

  My puppy Bull and his best friend Crash.

  “Dream a Little Dream”

  * * *

  In the spring of 2012, my family and I were invited to New York by Diane von Fürstenberg. Her foundation, the Diller–von Fürstenberg Family Foundation, supports the DvF Awards, and she wanted to honor me and my foundation with the Inspiration Award.

  The night before my flight to New York to attend the DvF Awards, I had a dream. The thought of this award was really weighing heavy on my mind for two reasons: it would be the first award I had ever received, and it would be the first time I had to give a speech in front of a lot of people. The old me, the one that lived as a captive so long in a backyard, was terrified of giving a speech and accepting an award that I felt I didn’t deserve just yet. I was still in the “finding me” stage and growing into the person I wanted to be. This dream, though, made me see that the old me was a scared little girl, but the new me in the dream was capable of anything she set her mind to. It was time to let the one holding me back die.

  The dream was like this:

  My daughters and I are prisoners of Phillip’s again. We are living in a place by the beach in a two-story house. I could see out a window where there was a maze of docks leading out to the ocean. The girls were watching The Powerpuff Girls on TV in a room in the back. Mojo Jojo, the villain in the show, was bent on controlling the world, and I remember thinking, Wow, Mojo Jojo is just like Phillip!

  Clothes and trash were thrown everywhere, all over. All of a sudden, Phillip marches in and starts yelling, but I’m not sure what about or what he is actually saying. It just sounds like yelling, and no coherent words come out of his mouth. He leaves after a while and lies down on the couch in the next room with the Bible covering his face. Nancy is on her hands and knees on the floor cleaning. I tell her I’m leaving with the kids. I go to pack our stuff and tell the girls we are leaving. Nancy tries to stop me, and then all of a sudden Phillip is there in the room and he goes to hurt my youngest daughter, so I jump at him and knock him down and put my hands around his throat. I’m choking him. I press and press harder, and then he dies, and I wake up.

  Lesson Learned!

  * * *

  During that trip to New York for the DvF Awards I learned a very valuable lesson. Someone can tell you not to do something all day long, but some lessons you have to learn for yourself. Drinking too much alcohol was one of those lessons for me, and the resulting hangover was punishment that I won’t soon forget.

  Arriving in New York felt like I was surrounded by a hive of bees swarming and buzzing everywhere. The city seemed like it was alive. There were so many people walking on the streets. A cab came to pick us up from the airport. We passed a beautiful bridge, and I got a glimpse of Central Park. I wanted to be Dora the Explorer for the day and just explore every nook and cranny of this big new city. Unfortunately, I’m actually way too cautious to try anything like that. Being a prisoner does funny things to the mind; feeling like you just can’t take risks is one of them. I think it over before I do anything and usually talk myself out of it if it seems too risky. Maybe I’ve always been like that, but at times it’s frustrating and taking chances seems like a steep mountain too high to climb. I would like to take a big risk one day and see what happens. I did go up in a balloon one day. It didn’t feel like a risk, but now that I think of it, it was a little risky. I figure falling in love one day will be a risk. Will I take it?

  The sounds of the city made it hard for me to concentrate on just one voice at a time. I could hear hundreds all around me. The sun reflected off the buildings and blinded my very sensitive eyes. I tried to act like this was just another day in the life of Jaycee Dugard, but it was anything but a normal day. Tall buildings and skyscrapers were everywhere I turned. I was in the land of giants. Bright yellow taxis waiting on every corner, and my favorite part of all was all the food vendors on the streets as we passed by. I wanted to jump out of the cab and try everything. I could literally smell the delicious aromas of gyros, pretzels, and churros from the vendors we passed.

  Later that day, after we were checked into our hotel, Diane von Fürstenberg invited us for lunch at her shop-studio on Washington Street. Never in a million years did I think I would be meeting a famous designer like Diane. I had done some research about her before the trip. I like to be prepared and seem knowledgeable about things. So I knew a little about her before we met. As she swept into the room and embraced me in a hug that felt so warm and inviting, I immediately felt a kinship with her. She asked me about my foundation and asked how I was doing. She treated my whole family like she had known us forever. She invited us to explore the shop and pick out something and also for me to pick out something for my daughters to take back home. I picked out this fabulous purple—my favorite color—purse and two scarves for the girls. I left thinking that I had made a new friend and was very excited for the night to come.

  That night I still wasn’t comfortable putting on makeup or wearing pretty clothes. I picked something that I had bought at Ross that I felt comfortable in. I applied a little bit of makeup. When we arrived, we were ushered into the green room, where they served us dinner. I was so caught up in meeting everyone that I took only a few bites. Jessica Alba was there. As I’m writing this I’m thinking of the song “Girl Crush,” by Little Big Town. Jessica Alba makes it easy to have a girl crush on, and, no, I don’t want a girlfriend. (I have learned to be careful what I say or write. People sometimes see or hear what they want to. Or what they think I mean.) Jessica was so very lovely and down to earth. She said she had wanted to meet me. I couldn’t believe it. I felt so out of place in my simple dress from Ross.

  I was told that Oprah Wi
nfrey was going to be giving me my award, and she came in to meet me. She was wearing a beautiful green dress, and I’m so short I barely came up to her chest. She said she’d always wanted to meet me and that she admired the work I was doing with my foundation. She said she was honored to be introducing me for the Inspiration Award that year.

  Before the ceremony started, we were escorted to our chairs. Oprah’s assistant approached me and asked if I would like to sit with her in the front row. I said thank you so much for the offer but I’d really like to sit with my family. I hope I did not insult her. Thinking about it later, she might have thought that was rude. That was not my intention. I still just simply wanted to be with my family every chance I got. I wonder, can you ever really get back eighteen years? I missed so much of my little sister growing up, learning to walk, and all those sister times. Here we were, and she is with me looking beautiful, grown-up, and so confident. How did that all happen?

  As the night wore on and my time approached, I was extremely nervous. I had written an acceptance speech, and Nanny Goat sat beside me as Oprah stepped onto the stage. As her booming voice echoed through the room, I heard her introduce the founder of the JAYC Foundation, Jaycee Dugard. Wow! I can’t believe I am here! Oprah continued on to say I had endured eighteen years with only a bucket . . . LOL. Yep, that’s me. My nerves shot through the roof. Finally, the time came. With applause exploding in my ears, I walked up to the podium. The lights were blinding. I looked out into darkness and said the first line from my first book, A Stolen Life: “Let’s get one thing straight! My name is Jaycee Lee Dugard!” After that I don’t remember a whole lot. I finished my speech and thanked the Diane von Fürstenberg family and foundation for the award and contribution to my newly founded foundation and walked back down off the dais.