​Dogs have a way of showing love, loyalty, and courage that goes beyond words. Time and time again, they prove that they are more than just pets—they are family, protectors, and even heroes. From stories of dogs traveling hundreds of miles to reunite with their owners to selfless acts of bravery that saved lives, these heartwarming tales will leave you in awe. Some of these incredible pups have risked everything to keep their humans safe, while others have shown extraordinary devotion in ways that defy logic.

Hachiko – The Dog Who Waited Forever
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One of the most famous stories of canine loyalty belongs to Hachiko, a devoted Akita in Japan. Hachiko would wait at the Shibuya train station every day for his owner, Professor Hidesaburo Ueno, to return from work. Tragically, the professor passed away one day and never came back—but Hachiko continued to wait. For nearly 10 years, he showed up at the same spot, refusing to believe his beloved human was gone. His story touched the hearts of millions, and today, a statue stands at Shibuya Station in his honor, reminding the world of the unmatched loyalty of dogs.
  
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​Roselle – The 9/11 Guide Dog Hero

​On September 11, 2001, a Labrador Retriever named Roselle was guiding her blind owner, Michael Hingson, inside the North Tower of the World Trade Center when tragedy struck. Amidst the chaos, Roselle remained calm, leading Michael and others down 78 flights of stairs to safety. She never hesitated, even as the building shook and debris fell around them. Her bravery and composure saved lives, proving that service dogs are not just companions but true heroes.
  

​Balto – The Sled Dog That Saved a Town
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In 1925, a diphtheria outbreak threatened the town of Nome, Alaska. A life-saving serum was needed, but the only way to get it there was through harsh, freezing conditions via dog sled. Balto, a Siberian Husky, led his team through the final, most dangerous leg of the journey, covering 54 miles in near-blizzard conditions. Thanks to Balto’s determination and leadership, the medicine was delivered, saving countless lives. Today, his statue stands in Central Park, honoring his courage and endurance.
  

Following our re-homing of Heidi, my wife Clara and I felt the guilt and sense of loss a dog lover feels whenever circumstances dictate surrendering a dog. Taking a bit of the sting out of the experience, we were extremely grateful Heidi had found what was for her the perfect home. I could not have, in good conscience, taken Heidi to a shelter. If  we hadn’t found the family we did for Heidi, Clara and I would have had to endure being owners of an antisocial, hyperactive dog. We’d had some practice in that area thanks to Lance, but neither of us would have enjoyed a repeat performance. Owners who have lived dogs like Lance and Heidi know how complicating and isolating such ownership can be.

We visited Heidi several times in 2022. Her new owners sent us photos from time to time. In every photo, Heidi had contentment written all over her face. Clara and I swallowed our pride and assured each other we had done the right thing. We came to the painful conclusion that whatever it took to right the “Heidi Ship”, we didn’t have it. Her reformation was a miracle that Clara and I had the good fortune to witness.

Our experience with Heidi taught us a lesson: it’s critical to recognize and admit to your limitations. Sometimes it’s okay to say “when”! I’m confident Heidi is happy we did.
Following Heidi’s departure, Clara and I contented ourselves with our cat. At least I did. Clara spoke of getting another dog. Of course, it would be a rescue. What kind? I needed an older, socialized, and—because of my declining health—low energy dog😊 Ideally, a dog with a track record  so we’d know what we were getting into.

We started visiting local shelters. There, we were received somewhat coldly. Maybe I’ll write an essay on that experience some day but, for now, let’s just say we found these shelters to be anything but consumer friendly.

In mid-April of 2023, my chronically bad back finally caught up with me. I had been dealing with flareups for decades. I wouldn’t recover from this final attack on my lower spine. I was only able to get around with a walker or a rollator. Among other things, that meant no dog. My wife’s bad knees and my back made us unsuited for dog ownership, especially the dog walking part.

My poor health dictated a poor quality of life for the rest of 2023: unsuccessful back surgery, a second bout of COVID and a life-threatening attack of sepsis rounded out the year.

2024 started with a bang: a mystery virus  hospitalized me for eight days. Upon being discharged,  I resumed rehabbing my back, without seeing much success.

In early April, Clara spotted a post on Facebook. An owner was looking to re-home her puppy. She was living with her husband and mother-in-law, both of whom didn’t like dogs. She had a four-month-old beagle/dachshund named Gruff. The owner said Gruff was house broken and good with people,  dogs and cats. She said he had all his shots and had no medical issues. She said she had to get rid of him because the other people living with her did not like dogs.

While still on the phone with Clara, the owner said she could drop her dog off in two hours(10:00p.m.)  We deferred until the following morning. That’s when we met the owner and her dog outside the Candy Kettle Store in Marshalls Creek, Pennsylvania. The owner got out of her car carrying Gruff and handed him to Clara who in turn handed him to me sitting in the front seat for our car. The lady said, “Goodbye!”, hustled back to her car, and took off. Gruff was whining that doggy whine a dog makes when it senses change that it doesn’t understand. Gruff didn’t whine for long. He settled down on my lap for the ride to his new home. The first thing I noticed about Gruff—he stunk! I believe a dog’s smell says a lot about his living conditions and Gruff’s stench told quite a story.

When we got home, I let Gruff loose in our fenced yard. After relieving himself (that was promising!), he entered our house without hesitation . The first thing I did was go inside, wash my hands, and change my shirt and pants to rid myself of doggy odor. Clara gave Gruff a bath in the kitchen sink. When the bathing , rinsing and drying was completed, I don’t know if Gruff appreciated the fact he smelled better but we did.

Gruff’s previous owner had given us a box of dog toys and a large bag of kibble. Clara checked the kibble’s ingredients and immediately went shopping for a healthier alternative. It turned out Gruff was far from house broken. Because of my limited mobility, Clara did the house breaking duties, going outside with Gruff every hour and praising him when he did his business. It took about a month to a month and a half for Gruff to “get it”.

Speaking of Gruff, neither Clara nor I liked that name. I came up with Augie. For those old enough to remember, I lifted the name from an old cartoon show, Augie Doggie and Doggie Daddy.

The local vet doubts Augie is a dachshund/beagle mix. She said he has a “German shepherd’s tail”. None of us see any beagle in him at all. More likely, Whippet. Someday, we’ll do the DNA thing.

There is a definite physical resemblance between Augie and Heidi. They share the dachshund part. Unlike Heidi, Augie has turned out to be very people-friendly. Rambunctious, yes!  Antisocial, not at all! Like Heidi, we took Augie to Sit, Stay, n’ Play in Stroudsburg, Pa. for obedience training. Unlike Heidi, Augie didn’t terrorize the staff  and other dogs. With the other canines in the class, he displayed friendly curiosity.

As of today, we’ve had Augie for about ten months. Clara is able to give Augie a short walk most every day. I can hobble out in the backyard and throw his ball for him to chase. Whenever I drag myself out into the garage to do a workout on the universal, I let Augie entertain himself inside and outside the garage.

Last year in warmer weather, I took Augie outside and went through some of the commands he learned in obedience school. I’ll do the same this year as soon as winter ends.

On the agenda:
1-Getting a second dog to keep Augie company —and busy.
2-Hiring a dog walker.
3-Perhaps a return visit to doggie school.

Before we got Augie, I had been looking for an older dog that wouldn’t test my physical health. There are times I feel I’m short changing Augie because of my physical limitations. Of course, being a dog, Augie can’t complain even if he wanted to. Whenever I feel I’m not doing as much as I’d like to for Augie, I comfort myself in knowing we helped him escape from a bad situation. Knowing how active he is inside the house as well as outside, I don’t think he would have fared very well in a smelly house with at least two occupants that didn’t like dogs.

February 2025. I’m sitting here putting the finishing touches on this blog entry. Augie is calmly lying on my lap. That won’t last for long 😊

I’m a bit late in honoring the anniversary of an incredible act by an incredible dog.

Backstory: As described in Lance: A Spirit Unbroken, Lance was a border collie that my wife Clara and I rescued. He had lived outside for over 10 years, at the mercy of bad people, inclement weather, and wild animals. He turned out to be semi-feral and untrustworthy around people, his rescuers included. He bit both Clara and me on the day he moved in with us. Subsequent sporadic attacks occurred, often without warning, until the day he died. Clara was the victim of the worst of Lance's attacks, and she has scars on her face, hand, and leg as reminders. I also personally witnessed Lance kill a woodchuck and a deer, both brutal events but ones I could not stop.

We employed a dog obedience trainer who was impressed with Lance’s rapid learning of basic commands. However, she was concerned about his threatening and lunging behavior. She referred us to a school for herding and obedience. The director rejected Lance’s “application” because she felt his wires had been irreparably crossed.

Lance wasn't an unintelligent dog—in fact, he was extremely bright and alert. He had simply lived outside too long and been assaulted too often, making him unsuitable for domesticity. At one point, we actively searched for someone or some organization more qualified to deal with him but even the Border Collie Rescue Association said that if they took Lance, most likely he would be euthanized.  That left it up to us to pull the switch ourselves and we couldn’t. We wound up living with Lance for the duration of his life. During that time one event in particular occurred that Clara and I still marvel at.

On February 7, 2006, in the early a.m., Clara and I were preparing to go to the airport and fly to Florida. We were planning to visit Clara's brother, Eddie, who had recently turned his life around after battling drug addiction for decades. We were minutes from leaving the house when Clara got a phone call from her sister-in-law Toni who was screaming, "Eddie's dead. He died from a heart attack. He's gone." Clara was instantly overcome with grief and, sobbing uncontrollably, threw herself into the recliner in our living room. I picked up the phone, not really knowing what to say in such a situation. At the same time, Lance rushed over to Clara, propped himself up with his front paws on her legs and began staring intently at her. Clara was now literally shuddering in tears. My immediate thought was that Lance was about to attack at the very worst possible time. Before I could even think how to prevent such a disaster, Lance leaned towards Clara and began washing away her tears. She burst out, "Look at what this dog is doing!" That’s all I could do, because the whole scene had frozen me in place and left me speechless. Both Clara and I both started crying harder, not only for the passing of Eddie but for this show of empathy by an animal, one who had himself been so brutally treated for over a decade.

They say dogs like the salt in our tears. But it's also safe to say that having lived outside all his life, Lance had never seen a human’s tears. Since salt is odorless, he would not have been attracted to its scent in Clara’s tears. I know what I saw and believe Lance sensed Clara was in deep pain and reacted as he saw fit.

How would you interpret Lance’s actions? Have you witnessed anything similar?

From the moment Heidi entered the Bed and Biscuit, she proved to be a hard-to-handle resident. Morgan, who operated the kennel with her mother, said Heidi was very frightened and standoffish. She would allow people to enter her room, but she wouldn’t leave it. Initially, she refused to eat. Approximately three days into her stay, I stopped by to give Heidi a walk. When I entered her room, she didn’t seem to recognize me. Then, when she did, she became very enthusiastic. Good! My dad is going to take me home! I took her outside and we went on a decent trek. When I brought her back into the Bed and Biscuit, I talked briefly with the staff. They didn’t have nice things to say about Heidi’s demeanor. Having seen Heidi in action, I understood where they were coming from. From behind the counter, Heidi was gesturing as if she wanted me to take her back home. Unfortunately, I couldn’t do that, and I left the building, serenaded by Heidi’s desperate barking.

Shortly thereafter, Morgan’s mother devised a technique that got Heidi to voluntarily come out of her room. She left pieces of bacon in a trail that eventually stretched from Heidi’s bed to the doorway. Not only did Heidi come out of her room, she made it all the way up to the front desk. Over time she warmed up to Morgan, her sisters and their mother but never really got friendly with the rest of the staff. Per Morgan: “She remained standoffish with them, but she no longer was lunging or threatening them either.” Around that time, a dog arrived on the premises. This new dog in town changed everything.

Salem, a fellow Chiweenie, was a rags-to-riches story. He, the rest of his litter, and his still-nursing mom were left in a box outside a rescue operation in Alabama. The people at the rescue were impressed with Morgan’s credentials and the adoption was consummated. When Heidi and Salem were introduced to each other, in Morgan’s words, “Heidi immediately went into nonstop tail wagging. The two of them started playing and just running around the dog kennel until they wore each other out.” It wasn’t long before Morgan reported to us that Heidi appeared to be turning a corner had behaviorally. In Salem, Heidi had found a friend and mentor.
The idea of rehoming Heidi again became a serious topic of conversation between my wife  and me. Clara was still primarily immobile due to her surgery, and, because of my employment, there were significant amounts of time I was not at home. When I wasn’t in the house, my wife was concerned about not being able to get to the door in a timely fashion to let Heidi out if the dog had to relieve herself. I was concerned Heidi, a high-energy dog,  was not getting sufficient exercise. We were no longer suitable dog owners for Heidi or any other active dog for that matter. The scars were still healing from our first, nearly catastrophic rehoming of Heidi. We were determined not to make that type of mistake again . What was going on with Heidi in Morgan’s world had a much different feel to it. Morgan’s entire family and her significant other were all dog lovers . I’d seen her boarding kennel firsthand, and I was impressed. Perhaps most importantly Heidi had met a dog that knew how to bring out the best in her.

Continuing reports from Morgan indicated that Heidi’s change for the better was for real. What followed was a period of sharing Heidi’s company with Morgan. Morgan was in the process of moving from one house to another and she didn’t want to rehome Heidi twice. So, as Morgan gradually moved into her new  home,  we shared “joint custody” of Heidi for several months. Heidi would stay with us  and then with Morgan. Gradually, Heidi stayed at Morgan’s home for  increasing  periods of time.

Finally, after Morgan moved into her new home in June of 2022, we scheduled a day to bring Heidi to what would become her permanent residence. Talk about bittersweet! I knew we were doing right by Heidi but it’s never easy to relinquish a dog for any reason. To this day, Clara and I share our mixed feelings about the experience.

Clara and I drove to Morgan’s new home in Bushkill, PA. Upon entering, Heidi immediately made a happy beeline for Salem. Morgan gave us a brief tour of the house and then we went outside and sat down on folding chairs to chitchat. As I looked out on the horizon I spotted Morgan’s other three dogs, but Heidi was nowhere in sight. For some reason, I decided to look under my chair and there sat Heidi looking out on the world. If I had to translate a dog’s body language it was as if she was saying I just want you all to know that this is my pal sitting above me. That was a very touching moment that only a dog lover could appreciate. However, speaking of body language, later, when we were at the door getting ready to leave, Heidi sat down next to Morgan. This time the body language told another story.. This is where I really would prefer to live. Only a dog lover could understand the jumbled emotions Clara and I shared in that moment.

We stopped by Morgan’s house again in September to pay Heidi a visit. She greeted us with gusto but, once again, when we were getting ready to leave, made it clear she had found  what she hoped was her permanent home. In December of 2022, we visited with a small gift for Heidi’s new owners. Heidi was clearly thriving in her new home.

Since taking ownership of Heidi, Morgan has been kind enough to send us multiple photos of Heidi alone and with her new pack. Though every once in a while I question whether my wife and I did the right thing, it really has become a no-brainer. My health deteriorated significantly in 2023. I have been forced to use a walker since April and I would not be able to walk Heidi much farther than to the end of my driveway. I feel sufficient exercise is critical for a dog’s happiness and well-being and I’d be a fool to think I could provide that for any active dog at this point. Heidi  was always ready to roll at a moment’s notice.

As of the date of this post, Morgan reports that Heidi gets along well with the six dogs she sees on a regular basis. Two of those dogs got into a dust-up recently and Heidi sat on the sidelines. As for dogs she isn’t familiar with? Only time will tell. She’s still standoffish with people, especially males. A combination of leashing, the stranger providing her treats, and patience has worked several times. Clara and I tried a similar strategy  with little success. Maybe we were the wrong trainers, or maybe we utilized the wrong strangers:).

There are times in life when a loss makes no sense. There are other times, as in Heidi’s case,  where a searching of the soul finds a silver lining. Though we thought back in 2020 we were adopting/ rescuing Heidi,  we turned out to essentially be foster parents. Nothing wrong with that. In fact, job well done. As proof, I present the following photos shown below:

It took a dog from Alabama to do what neither my wife, I nor an excellent canine obedience school could. And, he brought about Heidi’s metamorphosis in record time. My hat’s off to Salem.