By Cheryl Charles
I felt compelled to write this story because many have insisted I do.
In 2016, I lost both my dogs on the same day. Kuno, my German Shepherd, was a loyal, handsome boy. My Mastiff, Maggie, loved life and would get lost in her own backyard. One had cancer, the other degenerative myelopathy. The decision to let them go was the hardest decision I have had to make. They were both fading fast, and it made sense they should go together. On the dreadful day to say “good-bye,” they went to sleep, lying next to each other, and I sang to them.
Months passed without the charging around of dogs or barking or begging or bringing me toys. The quiet was maddening.
One day, I read about Doberman puppies for sale in the paper. Needing a “puppy fix,” I drove over to the address. I found three litters of puppies crying and peeing and trying to escape their cages. I told the owner I wasn’t really looking for a puppy, but, as I was preparing to leave, a woman walked in with a three-year-old red Doberman and asked, “Do you want him?” He’d been through four different homes already under various names. I asked how much, she said “100.00,” and he was mine. As Rusty and I drove home, I assured him this was the last home he’d ever have.
A week after getting him vetted and neutered, Rusty and I went for a hike in a nearby state forest. We were about two miles in when I started to notice the brush was denser and the path was gone. Earlier, I had read a sign declaring “No horseback riders or snowmobilers beyond this point.” I interpreted the sign as meaning the area was designated just for hikers. My mistake. Plus, we had been walking on the horseback/snowmobile trail, not the hiking trail. We ended up in a canyon surrounded by bugs, burrs, bushes, and, soon, darkness.
We found ourselves in a wooded basin surrounded by steep hills. To go back wasn’t an option because of the obstacles we’d already encountered. I decided to crawl up the side of the canyon which was roughly two stories high through a controlled burn area. Rusty had on his harness, so he kept me steady until…I reached for a blackened branch and it snapped. I let go of Rusty’s leash as I tumbled backward.
Back on the canyon floor, battered and bleeding, I couldn’t hear Rusty’s collar jingling. My cell had no service, so I was in trouble. Fifteen minutes passed. I assumed Rusty was long gone as both I and these woods were new to him. All of a sudden, I heard dirt and stones sliding toward me. I looked up. There was Rusty coming down sideways, clearing the briars and a path for us. He hauled me back up that canyon with his harness, and we slowly made it back to the car.
He has never left my side again.
Rusty is now seven. Although I miss my other two, he has filled my heart when I thought no other dog could. Many people say they rescue dogs, but this beautiful boy rescued me!
