Sharing many years of joyful companionship, Cheyenne grew very old. Almost deaf. Heavy, arthritic, and nearly blind. Because my friend's daughter feared all big black dogs, we took Cheyenne to a park with her... to create familiarity with a dog profoundly kindhearted and gentle.
As soon as we exited the car, Cheyenne made a beeline for the very-faraway opposite corner of the apparently deserted park. Unfailingly obedient all her life, she totally ignored my angry demands that she come back immediately.
She stopped at the playground’s child-sized fort. Two stories high, the walls were made of pointed logs. She woofed impatiently at us as we ran to catch up. Even when we arrived, we were on the wrong side of the fort, and could not see the problem.
More very urgent woofing made us follow her around the corner. A nine-year- old had jumped off the top of the fort, catching the back of his T-shirt on a pointed log. The shirt had ridden up, and he was strangling, unable to save himself because his arms were pulled up and backward. His face and neck were purple. He had serious “rope burns” on his neck.
I grabbed his legs and lifted him to loosen the “noose”; my friend climbed up to unhook the shirt.
He did recover, after treatment. No question he’d have died without our rescue. But I still wonder: how did Cheyenne know he was there? And in such trouble?
Rita Castillo
Springfield, OR
Dogs are such amazing beings, aren't they?
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