If only Finney could talk, the Irish Jack Russell Terrier could tell us how she refused to leave her hiking companion, who died of hypothermia nestled in the roots of a yellow pine, in the rugged wilderness of the San Juan Mountains.

She could tell us about 71-year-old Richard Moore’s last moments as she stood sentinel, whether he died after sunrise or sundown and whether he was at peace.

She could describe how she stayed alive, likely fighting off wildlife, with only a nearby spring to quench her thirst and chipmunks and insects for food.

If she could talk, she might remark on how, after 72 days of loyal watch, she bared her teeth and barked at the hunter who stumbled upon her owner’s body in the Lower Blanco drainage basin.

The hunter then messaged his son, who alerted the Archuleta County Sheriff’s Office of his bizarre discovery.

Oct. 30 was already a very busy day for the department.

“The day they found him there was a wildland fire, and then a call came in. A hunter messaged his son in town that he had found a body and a dog,” said Ryan Foster, the sheriff’s emergency management commander. “I called the sheriff and I said ‘I think we’ve found Rich.’”

Chatter on the radios was spotty and at times confusing as it relayed third-hand from hunter to son to law enforcement. There was talk about the dog but no one could confirm any of it.

“It comes in that the dog is alive. And that the hunter was unable to round her up because she was skittish. We were like ‘No way, this is incredible!’” said Foster.

Though this was a recovery mission, the dog’s amazing survival brought cheers and high fives as two helicopters flew single file to the back side of Blackhead Peak.

When they were finally able to coax the 3-year-old terrier away from Moore’s body, she was still wearing her purple collar with the Finney name tag. She was so skinny it was drooping off of her neck, and she had long scars on her nose.

The team outsmarted the starving Finney, luring her with an offer of a can of wet dog food (beef) to where Archuleta County Deputy Director of Emergency Management Roy Vega was waiting with a blanket.

Foster said she was so hungry that “at one point, when she was eating out of the can, she picked it up with her teeth. She wasn’t letting go of that dog food can.”

Down the 12,000 foot mountain near Pagosa Springs, Moore’s wife, Dana Holby, sleepless for two and a half months, heard a knock at the door. It was Sheriff Mike Le Roux with bittersweet news.

In an exclusive interview with The Denver Gazette, she said he told her “that a hunter had found Rich. And that Finney had somehow miraculously made it and she was alive and that they were taking her to our vet.”

Le Roux said that finding Finney — at barely half of her original 12-pound body weight — was like having a piece of Rich.

In what would have been an incredibly dark time, the tiny dog was “a little light at the end of the tunnel,” he said.

THE SEARCH

The Archuleta County Sheriff’s Office started searching with drones for Rich Moore at 10 p.m. Aug. 19, the night he went missing, certain that they would find him alive.

Despite his age, he was an avid hiker.

The original search consisted of Moore’s son and a neighbor, who scaled Blackhead Peak to the summit, seven other people on the ground and a crew of three in a Flight for Life helicopter “flying low in the dark with a spotlight looking for two moving objects: a six-foot human and a little white Jack Russell running around,” said Le Roux.

They saw marmots, deer and foxes but no sign of a tall man and a scurrying canine. They called off the search at 2 a.m. The next day, Sunday, Aug. 20, 18 people searched all day with no luck. His cell phone last pinged at around 4 a.m. that morning.

On Day Three, Foster’s team added K9 dogs from New Mexico to the ever-expanding team.

Tuesday, Day Four was intense, according to Foster, as searchers were now racing against time to find Moore and Finney. Moore had some snacks and a coat in his backpack, but he was wearing shorts and soon temps would be in the low double digits at night.

By the fifth day, “theories were running strong” as to what happened to Moore. Sheriff Le Roux brought in investigators to track his credit cards. Maybe he had been abducted at the trail head?

The dog though. What about the dog? They were calling her name and they never heard a bark.

Posted at the trailhead and at places where people can buy hunting licenses and at the hardware stores were fliers with a photo of Moore and Finney together.

The town was buzzing about them.

Sheriff’s deputies couldn’t go to the grocery store or out to dinner without getting stopped by well-meaning town folk.

Volunteer Forest Service trail crews, groups from Durango, wildland firefighters, Flight for Life, the state helicopter and Colorado National Guard Blackhawk all combed the mountainous terrain as the days unfolded. People rappelled into remote drainages, now turning to improbable places.

On Sept. 22, after 2,100 hours, including 60 flight hours, using nine dogs and their handlers, five choppers, and 175 flight and ground crews, the search was called off.

Foster and Le Roux described it as “by far the most comprehensive search we’ve done in our history.”

The day before Halloween, Moore and Finney were found in a remote area of the San Juan wilderness 2 miles east of where the search had been conducted. A team of two had walked a trail near the body calling his and Finney’s names but didn’t see or hear anything.

“It really was a needle in a haystack,” said Le Roux, and remarked that “they were found at the end of nowhere.”

Spunky Irish Jack Terrier habits

The Irish Jack Russell Terrier is a 150-year-old breed known for its loyalty to the family because they think they’re human, according to Donna Fitzpatrick, a breeder who owns Trinity Farms out of South Carolina.

“They are ferocious and loyal and tenacious to a fault,” she said. In Ireland, the breed took 50 years to develop as an alternative to the original Jack Russell Terrier, which she said were always out chasing the geese instead of staying inside the house with the kids and parents.

Fitzpatrick has had many phone messages from people who saw the story on national and international news outlets like BBC Today.

Holby wants none of the limelight. She’s prefers to quietly figure out what she will do now that her marriage of 34 years was cut short. She wants to thank the Upper San Juan Search and Rescue, the sheriff’s office, her neighbors and family.

She and Moore moved to Colorado from Vermont two years ago to explore the mountains. She wished he would have listened to her when she asked him not to go on his hike to Blackhead Peak alone.

Just last week, Dana Holby brought Finney to the sheriff’s office, where the  dog earned a hall pass, which means she has carte blanche to run around and inspect every corner while barking all the way.

Holby has lain her husband’s clothes all over the house so that Finney can smell him. If Finney could talk, she could express how she feels, but Holby knows. She lets her nuzzle her snout on her pillow at night and takes the little black and white dog everywhere, including a daily 4-mile walk.

They save each other from sorrow.

“I’m just grateful that she was with him,” said Holby. “Rich did not want to get old. He wanted to climb mountains until he couldn’t, so here we are.”