With a racing heart, I ran back to the bush. That was a new behavior for my dog, Max. Yes, he was stubborn, but this time it was different. Not only was he trapped, but he had also refused to move. And suddenly I felt like I had missed something significant.
Max had always been a wandering dog, smelling everywhere, chasing squirrels, and barking at objects that moved. However, this evening was unique. It felt like something, something I couldn’t see or comprehend, was tugging at him. His body tensed, his gaze fixed on something in the darkness, he stood by the bush. I attempted to phone him, but he remained unresponsive.
Initially, I attributed it to his typical stubbornness. However, while I watched him, I felt a tense sensation in my chest. Something wasn’t quite right. Max had previously acted protective, but never to the extent that he did now—something was concealed in that bush, and he knew it.
When I got to the bush, I squatted down and pushed the twisted branches away. I noticed it, something little, trembling, and hardly making a sound, just as the faint light from the streetlamp had just begun to reach the ground.
a kitten.
Squeezed between the roots, its small body shook. It had filth all over its small paws and matted fur. The kitten was obviously there for a long time, and now it was scared, weak, and defenseless. It makes sense why Max had refused to go; he had sensed the kitten’s pain, just as he could sense an impending storm or sense my distress. Max was attempting to communicate with me, not just being obstinate.
I reached in and picked up the small creature gently. It was hardly heavy. Its little body, light and delicate, fit my hands so well. The kitten meowed weakly, its tiny eyes wide with fright and tiredness, and it pressed against my palm for warmth. I felt my heart tighten. How much time had it spent here? Had it been lost, or had it been abandoned?
Max sat at my feet and watched carefully, his tail swinging a little like he was saying, “See? I told you.
I muttered, “I’m sorry, buddy,” as I scratched his head. “I didn’t listen to you when you tried to assist.”
Max had been warning me, I knew. His protective instincts had been more acute than mine, and I suddenly felt guilty for not putting my trust in him sooner. It is sometimes overlooked that dogs possess a sixth sense that allows them to feel things that humans cannot see or comprehend.
Max trotted diligently beside me as I went home after carefully wrapping the kitten in my scarf and snuggling it under my bosom to keep it warm. After entering, I lined a tiny shoebox I had discovered with an old towel and carefully placed the kitten inside. I poured warm milk into a little bowl in the hopes that it might give the poor creature some vigor again. Before curling up in the box, the kitten appeared to comprehend and lapped up the milk with a quiet haste. With tiredness taking over, its eyelids fluttered closed.
Max stayed at its side. His nose rested lightly next to the kitten as he sat next to the box, keeping a silent but attentive eye on it. He was so proud of himself for locating and saving this small creature, and I could see how much he cared for it. He had fulfilled his responsibility, and now he was protecting it as if it were his own.
I came to a realization that night while I was sitting on the couch and watching Max cuddle up next to the shoebox. In addition to seeing with their eyes, dogs can feel with their hearts. It was no accident that Max had discovered the kitten. In a way that I had not, he had sensed it, felt it, and refused to go because he knew it needed assistance. He had never said a word, yet he had saved a life.
The following day, I took the kitten to the veterinarian. Despite being dehydrated, she was in good health. If no one stepped up to claim her, we discussed finding her a home, and the veterinarian gave me some tips on how to take care of her. I created a couple posters and put them up around the area in the hopes that someone would see her and come get her. However, as the days passed, none ever did.
My final decision was to keep the kitty. She had already been welcomed into Max’s family, and they clicked right away. Max was formerly the house dog, but now he was the most proud big brother ever. As she matured, he would keep an eye on her, and she would cuddle up next to him, sharing the warmth and support that only a brother can provide.
That night, Max taught me two valuable lessons: sometimes the best things in life happen when we least expect them, and sometimes we should listen to those around us, whether they are a dog, a child, or our instincts, since they may know something we don’t.
With this new tiny addition to our family, life continued as usual. The kitten—now named Luna—became inseparable from Max, the protector. Max’s refusal to mince words and his realization that there are things in this world that our hearts and instincts can sense but that we cannot see are things I will never forget. And such instincts can save a life sometimes.
