Bravo!

by Wendy G

We lived next door to a family with two daughters, Jennifer and Robyn James.

My siblings and I, and our dog Rusty, often played together with them after school, on our very wide grassy footpath. Ball games, or bike riding, or hopscotch. It didn't matter – we were carefree, and it was fun.

Rusty, a big kelpie cross, loved being a part of all the action, and I am sure it was his favourite time of the day, running backwards and forwards with all the children.

We generally enjoyed ourselves until dusk, when Mr James arrived on the bus which stopped across the road. Our father would be home shortly after. So Mr James' bus would signal the time to go indoors for family time or homework, baths, dinner and bed.

One particular summer afternoon the bus was quite late, and night was fast approaching.

Finally we saw it coming. It stopped, and Mr James got off.

He made his way to cross the road behind the bus, and called out, "Hello, girls! I'm here at last!" His face beamed with pleasure at the sight of his two special daughters.

Jennifer was so excited she started to run across the road to meet him – and did not look first. A truck was approaching from the other direction, and moving downhill at speed. The driver suddenly saw her.

A blast from the horn, squeals of brakes, screams from the children! The rest was a blur of action. Rusty leapt out from the footpath, tackled Jennifer, and pushed her to the far side of the road.

She fell into her father's arms, and together they rolled back to the footpath. They were both trembling violently – but safe.

However, loud screams of pain came from Rusty. A sound I will never forget!

His back leg had been clipped by one of the truck's big wheels. It dangled, torn and bleeding. We bundled up our much-loved pet, and the vet confirmed that his leg was broken, high up near the hip.

Wounds were dressed. Surgery was attempted, but could not fix it. Every subsequent movement as he recovered seemed to undo the work.

The choice was to euthanize, to amputate, or to keep sustaining him with painkillers and let it heal by itself, and wait to see. We chose the third option.

We took dear Rusty home to rest. He was our hero, and had undoubtedly saved Jennifer's life.

Time passed. After school, we now played near Rusty's bed so he could still experience the fun while he rested. He received so much love and so many special treats in the weeks that followed.

Gradually his leg grew stronger. He was able to walk again, and even run, but the fourth leg always dangled. The vet assured us that he was not in pain.

But every time a truck passed by, there would be a frenzy of barking.

Bravo, Rusty. Never forgotten! Our hero.

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