It was a perfect sunny day by the beach for five life-long friends, enjoying each other’s company and some snacks while basking under the warm sun when their peaceful time was interrupted. Out of the blue, a shaggy, reddish brown dog came rushing straight towards them.
They attempted to greet the dog, but instead of being friendly, the dog behaved erratically, spinning around them while barking aggressively without stopping. Instead of showing any interest, when they tried feeding the dog, it continued barking even more ferociously.
The friends exchanged concerned glances; this was clearly no typical stray searching for a free meal; it looked scared, desperate for them to act.
Just then, one of the friends paused and her face turned as white as paper. “See how its fur is?” she said, pointing at the dog’s side.
Moving closer, the ladies let out an exclamation; dark, sticky spots and little drops covered the dog’s thick coat and paws. It was blood. Desperately, they examined the animal for wounds, but there were none, not even a limp, whine, or any sign of pain. The blood clearly belonged to someone else.
A wave of dread settled over the group. The dog suddenly spun around, bolted a few yards down the beach, and whipped its head back to bark at them. It ran a bit further, stopped, and barked again. The cue was unmistakable: the dog was begging them to follow.
They jumped to their feet without a word and took off running after the animal. With its lead, they were led to a small, jagged rocky promontory toward the end of the beach, an area of large, slippery rocks that most people avoided.
Turning the corner, they stopped dead in their tracks.
A was a man lying there motionless on the wet sand. There was a huge bloodstain spreading out below him from the wet rock next to him. He obviously had slipped and fallen from the slippery rocks. The dog went up to him, giving out its last desperate bark. The poor animal wasn’t begging for food, all it wanted was for that man to be given help.
One of the women immediately dialed 911 while frantically trying to describe the secluded location to the dispatcher, while the other woman knelt down beside the man and checked for a pulse.
“Is he breathing?”
“Yes,” she answered with a sigh after a long pause, “but very, very slowly.”
Relieved but afraid, they gathered around the man, talking to him softly and calmly, in order to prevent him from losing consciousness until the ambulance arrived. The dog would not leave his side, constantly walking round his body and occasionally nudging him with his wet nose.
They could not get over their horror about how close to a catastrophe this situation had actually been. There were many people on the main beach, and yet no one noticed this man bleeding to death in that isolated place. If it were not for the dog, this would have been a recovery operation instead of a rescue one.
At last, the wailing cries of the sirens made their way through the crashing waves. The paramedics ran down the sand, taking over the entire situation at once to help treat the man by bandaging his head, immobilizing his neck, and placing him on the spine board.
A medic stopped and thanked the women, stating that their call had helped save the man’s life. As they loaded the stretcher into the ambulance, the group of women breathed a sigh of relief. At least the man would live.
Now, with the lights disappearing into the night, the dog seemed to relax again. There was no longer any need for barking, no more tension in its body as it sighed, relieved to have completed its task. One of the ladies bent down and held out her hand to which the dog sauntered over and placed its head into her hand.
The group stood by the shore as the ambulance vanished through the coastal road. Only an hour ago, they were enjoying themselves carefree. Now, they witnessed a miracle. They would always remember this summer day not for the perfect weather or the picnic, but for the heroic dog that turned a lazy beach day into a life-saving rescue.
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Bored Daddy
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