Whoever adopted Lindsay Davenport Roy from the Pinellas, FL Animal Shelter in September, 2014, PLEASE CONTACT ME

HELP!

SOMEONE MUST KNOW WHERE MY DOG IS, LINDSAY DAVENPORT ROY.  
She's 8, my Service Dog, my "Chocolate Lab of Pure Love," and the best thing I've ever known and loved. 

To have Lindsay stolen from me and then not be allowed to ever see her, touch her, kiss her when she was -- as I was told -- being treated at Laurel Pet Hospital in West Hollywood, CA, is beyond criminal.  It's sinful.
The way we've been treated by everyone involved in this mess is inexcusable and quite illegal. 
As a Federally Registered Service Animal, Lindsay and I have rights defined by The Americans With Disabilities Law of 1990. They are enforceable and supersede all laws, ordinances, rules and any effort made by any jurisdiction, agency, governmental body of any kind not at Federal level. To prevent us from having access to each other at all times is a violation of Federal Law. 

On Memorial Day in May of this year, I left a card with a security guard at the gate to Oprah's residence in Montecito, CA.  For several years now, I've been trying to get hired by The Oprah Winfrey Network, Ms. Winfrey, and/or one of her various enterprises.

I admire her and have been inspired by her more than anyone else.  We first met on January 14, 1986 on the first observance of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s birthday as a Federal Holiday.  I urge you to watch the interview:
                                       
Lindsay and I drove from Palm Springs to Montecito to deliver a message to Oprah with the hope that she would receive it, appreciate the effort, that we made the effort and went the extra distance. 

I'm aware of how in demand she is, so I've waited patiently.   Since Lindsay and I made our delivery, I've visited OWN headquarters in Los Angeles, and sent other messages as well as applied for jobs listed on www.Oprah.com.

Like plenty of other applicants, I continue to wait. 
My desire to work with/for/near/around/within eyesight/sniffing/picking up another suitcase in another hall /sweeping floors/giving a massage/laughing at everything she says with extra exuberance/telling her how much I appreciate the freebies left under our seats when we visited Harpo Studios for a taping of "The Oprah Winfrey Show" in 1999 and I exchanged the pashmina shawl from The Banana Republic for a hot black leather jacket which was stolen like my dog and so many other things since moving from Chicago to Palm Springs in 2010/at a "Remembering Your Spirit" distance has only grown. 

Maya Angelou, 1993, Presidential Inauguration, Washington, DC

About an hour after delivering the card to her home in Montecito, I heard on the radio that Maya Angelou died. What a woman. I'll never forget when she read "On the Pulse of Morning" during President Bill Clinton's first Inauguration in 1993. It brought tears to my eyes; joyful, happy, bittersweet tears.  Maya Angelou was Oprah's mentor.  

I'm sure Oprah was grieving when we arrived.  Who knows if Oprah ever saw the card or any of my many messages before and since Memorial Day, 2014.  

Just in case she and/or someone who works for Oprah Winfrey or can somehow help me "make the connection," let me state in no uncertain terms:  I WOULD REALLY LOVE TO WORK FOR OPRAH, OWN, ETC.  I've spent so many hours trying to get through and I'm left wondering.  What more can I, should I do to get my little pinky toe in the door?  How can I get the attention of the appropriate people and department or Ms Winfrey herself?  I could go work for someone else just about anywhere else.  But life is short and I believe in going after and realizing my dreams.  The feeling I have is anything else will leave me wondering if I'm wasting my precious time on earth when I could and should be working for someone who has demonstrated with her actions how much she cares about helping people, which in turn, results in saving lives.

I need a job.  I need income.   I need a "raison d'etre."

I need to feed my new puppy, Harpo.   Here he is in photos taken during our walks around our neighborhood in Cathedral City:

The inspiration for Harpo's name is s-u-o-i-v-b-o.  That is a e-u-l-c.

I love Harpo very much.  He's so cute and smart and loves me, too.  I'm very lucky that he came into my life.  We're lucky.  

This brings me back to Lindsay Davenport Roy.  
I have no verifiable information that would allow me or anyone for that matter to believe that she "died."  That's all I've been told by a Los Angeles Police Detective -- "she's dead."  That was two days after driving from Palm Springs to the Hollenback Police Station on 1st Avenue in Los Angeles to be told by Detective Sanchez my dog was dead but then not another fact.  It would leave anyone feeling confused, depressed, helpless and like my poor, sweet, innocent dog and I had been completely screwed over by people who profess to be such "good samaritans," yet don't even listen to the person who loved his best friend more than anything or anyone else every single day and spoiled her rotten as she so deserves.
But those same people, including Los Angeles Animal Control Officers Yvette Smith and Aparicio and everyone else working for The City of Los Angeles in various capacities, haven't called me back since June 10, 2014 and haven't provided any facts, paperwork, anything at all to verify Lindsay died.  She was in good condition two days before I was told she "died."  What happened?   

Or was she sent elsewhere?  There are videos of a Chocolate Labrador Retriever named Lindsay up for adoption at The Pinellas Animal Shelter in Clearwater, Florida.  That dog looks exactly like my Lindsay.  I was told Lindsay arrived at the Pinellas Shelter on June 10, 2014 and that she was adopted by someone in September.  But that's as far as I could get.  It is the same dog.  I'm so very depressed that I've been lied to, my family has been callous and cruel, lazy and stupid to believe the one-word answer, "dead," and then send me messages (but not calling to ask me or listen to me before sending these hideous messages) in which they call me a "dog killer."  To that, all I can come up with is a big "BULLSHIT!"  They obviously do not care.  Nor does anyone else.

That includes my ex partner, John Martin Park, of Chicago who was called by someone who works for Laurel Animal Hospital after the AVID microchip in Lindsay was scanned and identified her.  AVID provided my phone number, which was out of service after Lindsay and I moved from Chicago to Palm Springs and my phone was stolen, as were about 10 other iPhones and Samsung Galaxy III Smartphones.  

Lindsay's microchip #:  097482827.

I beg of everyone, put aside your prejudices, judgments, animosity, whatever it may be that someone has inaccurately and inappropriately told you about me that might justify -- in your minds -- stealing a dog, a SERVICE DOG, and then lying to the owner about everything, not letting the owner see the dog which defies common sense since the dog would most likely perk up and be excited to see his/her owner.

I've told enough people and have cried enough tears that I won't go on about this any longer than I have.

Lindsay is still alive.

Please bring her back to me, ASAP.

760.844.3802

Kevin Roy

37-250 Bankside Drive Apt 5

Cathedral City, CA  92234