Just a beautiful TRUE story about a dog!

Neil from Thames

I am so proud of my little hero---PERDY!
I am home now, sitting here, contemplating the events for the last hour or so. I am thankful for the curiosity, the singlemindedness and stubbornness of my little Jack Russell, Perdy. Those factors came into play, today in a manner I have never experienced before.
Around 3.30, today I took Perdy for an afternoon walk to the beach, near where we live. I had just finished mowing the lawn and having a bite to eat, so the big date scone probably needed a walk-off and Perdy---well she's a Jack Russell who NEVER refuses a walk.
We ambled by the stream, which seemed to have lost its anger, after the crazy weather most of the North Island of New Zealand has experienced over the last few days. Gone was that contortion, that tumbles stones millions of times more violently than my little stone tumbler, an item that we seek treasures to process, on our walks.
After we left the banks of the stream, we headed towards the pathway that fronts the retirement village, The usual 'characters' were present, many hundreds of Oyster Catchers and other seabirds, all resting, after having been in the Firth of Thames, hunting and doing what every they do 'out there.'
Perdy started her pulling, something that I must admit, I have not made much progress with, other than to 'slightly' lessen the intensity.
She persisted and added her voice to her actions. She became quite stroppy and kept pulling me back---past the area we had just left. She WOULD NOT give in. Her barking increased, causing me to glance towards where she was attempting to drag me.
It was then that I noticed an arm. I froze--then headed over to the bank, where I noticed that a person was stuck, between the rocks and the grass. She was crying out, but the sound of the waves carried her frail voice away from the homes, that were less than twenty meters away.
I bent down, Perdy still attached to me, via the wrap around leash.
'I've been yelling for an hour,' the lady said feebly.
My mind went into overdrive. What to do, scream for help, try to get her out, was she hurt, what if I hurt her more by moving her, were those bruises on her arm, how heavy is she? The questions kept playing in my mind, but suddenly I knew I had to get help---fast!
A flash of orange attracted my attention, on the other side of the pathway, It was a guy, with a small truck---the ka bel said something about 'painter.'
'Mate!,' I yelled. "Help me---there's a lady who's fallen down---I can't get her out without hurting her!.
He came running and a fellow worker, a fit looking young woman, joined us.
The trapped lady was able to talk to us and was more concerned about NOT being heard, than with any potential injuries.
The two young people were brilliant. It was almost as if they had some level of training for such situations. They KNEW what to do, and between us, we managed to gently lift the lady onto the grass, where we asked her if she was hurting anywhere, and which of the units she had come from.
She pointed to the nearest unit and even managed to stand up---unsteadily, but there was no keeping her down.
As we approached her unit (I picked up the two containers she had dropped----she had been feeding the birds!) an elderly man popped his face out of the sliding door. He didn't seem too phased that his wife had been gone an hour!
'We should ring management and get a nurse over here,' I implored.
' No need,' the lady said.
My young helpers pulled out a cell phone and made contact with the village management, she assured us that she was on the way, in spite of the objections of the lady.
We were thanked and I asked if I could check on her the next day.
AS we left, I thanked the two young people, telling them that I could not have managed the situation on my own.
It is now, that I am sitting here, at home, that I wish that I had asked for names---of everyone. I didn't. Things just happened so fast. I look at Perdy---sleeping on the sofa.
What a little hero and she doesn't even know it.
I will go and introduce myself, tomorrow. Perhaps a jar of my jam may go down well.

Posted by Neil Coleman at 10:05 PM