About Portland: Owner of Killed Dog Says He Has Lost His Best Friend

"I let him down. He was waiting for me and I never came."

That's William Robbins talking about Kona, a three-year-old Black Lab/Great Dane mix he had since he was a puppy.

Kona was in William's Hyundai Elantra last Thursday when Robbins stopped by the store he owns on Southeast 82nd around 3:30 in the afternoon.

"I ran inside for less than five minutes," he says. "You can see it on the surveillance tape. I run in. I run out. But it was too long and that's all they needed."

They are a man and woman caught by William's car on surveillance. The man can be seen getting into the car.

"You can see Kona run up from the back seat," says William. "He didn't know this guy, he just knew the car was going to move. He had no idea there was anything wrong.

"I taught him to be friendly, to love people. I should have taught him to defend himself."

William says he knows almost every dog owner has a story about how their dog is the special one, that their relationship is the special one. And that all those stories star, 'I know other people love their dogs but.'

"I know other people love their dogs but Kona was really special," he says. "He came with me everywhere. And I mean everywhere. If I had to go to Vegas, he was there with me."

William realized his car was stolen. Kona was stolen.

He immediately called the police. Portland Police are overwhelmed with car thefts and he understands that.

"But I just felt they didn't care,” William says. “They took the information but they didn't seem hopeful. And, maybe because of that, they didn’t seem helpful.

“At one point they suggested to me that I should do some legwork.”

And that’s what William did.

He printed fliers. He canvassed neighborhoods.

“I knew he had to be out there somewhere,” he says. “That someone had to know something. I went everywhere I could.'

William spent a lot of time talking to homeless people he came across. From what he could tell, he figured there was a good chance that whomever stole the car might be a homeless person, a drug user.

“I don’t want to demonize the whole group,” he says. “In fact, as I looked and ran into people, there were homeless people also looking. They had seen the flier. They wanted to help.”

At the same time, William says something has changed in the city.

“Portland may not have always been a paradise,” he says. “But it has gotten angrier, edgier, more dangerous. I know that there are a lot of homeless people out there because they have no other choice.

“But there are a lot of people out there who are vagrants, who are here because we make them feel welcome. We set up bathrooms and garbages and let them feel like they are welcome to be home on the street.”

And those people, William says, are the ones causing problems.

“They steal, they harass people, they cause all sorts of problems,” he says. “And what does the city do? It makes people feel more welcome.”

As the days went by - William says he has not slept in the six days since Kona was stolen, and from his voice it sounds as if that might be true - William did not give up hope.

“I did not give up,” he says. “I figured the car would be lost, gone forever. But I figured whoever took the car would let Kona out and he would find his way back.

“Someone would find him and all would be good.”

There would not be a happy ending.

On Tuesday, William got a call.

Someone had seen one of the hundreds of fliers he had distributed and called his cell phone.

“He was calling me from by Kelly Elementary School,” William says, “He had one of the fliers and he could see that it was my car. I asked if he was sure and he said it was my car. I asked if Kona was there.

“He said no. I was so thankful because it meant that Kona was still out there somewhere. And then the man just lost it.”

William knew what was coming. it didn't make it easier.

“He was crying so hard,” William says. “He told me that Kona was curled up in the front seat on the passenger side. He was curled up and he was dead. They hadn’t even bothered to open a window for him. They just left him to die.

“Kona was just curled up there waiting for me. He knew I would come and I didn’t. I let him down.”

As he spoke, William was driving Kona home.

“I’m taking him back to Ashland and I’m going to bury him.”

William and Kona had moved down there recently.

“Thirty-three acres,” William says. “He’s a Lab and had all the space in the world to run around. And now I’m going to dig a hole and bury him there.

“We had a view in the front where we liked to just sit and watch the world, the birds, the deer, the mountains. He loved the birds. And that’s where I’m going to bury him.”

And when he’s done with that. William has one plan.

“I’m going to come back and see if I can help find the man who did this. Who would do that to a dog?

"He was my best friend."