The Night Buster Met Death

A few years ago while I was still married, my mother-in-law paid a visit to us and brought some guests with her. As she opened her car door a little creature spilled out and immediately began barking at us. Actually, I would call it yapping–very irritating yapping. I don’t tolerate tiny, pesky dogs very well, but he ran straight to my girls and started wiggling with delight as they laughed and covered him with little girl hugs and kisses. Before I could utter any objections, the bond was sealed and our family had increased by one hyper-active, bothersome Dachshund.

My oldest daughter was nearly 4 years old and my youngest was slightly less than 2 years old and just beginning to walk. For their sake, I bit my lip and decided to give the small pest one week on a trial basis before I took him to the nearest animal shelter. As it turned out, he was as irritating as I expected, but my girls had found a companion that woke them up in the morning with loving kisses and crawled under their covers to dream with them at night. The one week test was extended for another, then another, then another, until I had to face the fact that he had become an official resident in our home. The girls named him Buster.

Our house was in a rural area with a huge front yard that faced a dirt road. We did not have a fence around the yard and many relatives had warned us of the dangers of children with open access to roads. But, our kids knew the dangers of playing near the road and we drilled it into them to never go there without mom or dad. We watched them like hawks and they heeded our warnings.

Then one summer’s night, tragedy came up that dusty road to claim my youngest daughter.

Dusk was setting in as my wife and I were in the back bedroom seperating items for a garage sale while kids were on the porch watching fireflies floating around the yard. My wife and I took turns checking up on the girls. then we got into a discussion about whether or not my old fishing equipment should be sold. This discussion had been going on for several minutes when Buster ran into the room and started whining. He wouldn’t sit still and then he broke into a high-pitched yelp. We stopped and looked at Buster and he turned and started barking up the hall towards the front door–the front door which led to the porch, and then the front yard, and then to the deadly road. At that moment we both realized that we hadn’t heard the girls for several minutes. Then, my oldest daughter screamed.

We raced down the hall and exploded onto the porch. As I leapt to the yard terror gripped me. My oldest daughter was standing at the edge of our yard looking across the road. My eyes followed hers and I saw the whiteness of my youngest daughters’ diaper faintly in the darkness. She had followed a firefly and was now at the edge of the other side of the road.

Mind-numbing horror jolted through me as I heard the truck barreling towards her. Death was coming for my little girl. My wife was screaming for the youngest to stand still, pleading with her not to move as we ran to her. My youngest saw the truck coming and knew that it was bad for her to be across the road. She got scared and wanted the safety of her mothers’ arms. She did what any child would do and started to toddle toward her mother and stepped into the road. I was running the hardest I have ever ran, but it was useless. It was too far and my little girl wasn’t going to make it. I begged to God with all of my soul to let her live.

Then the world slipped into slow motion.

From the corner of my eye I something dark and low to the ground fly across the yard in the direction of the speeding truck. As I continued to run, I heard a faraway noise that grew in intensity. It was Buster as he was charging the monster that was coming for my daughter, his friend. He reached the middle of the road and stood as strong as a redwood, barking with all the strength his little voice could muster.

At that moment the trucks’ headlights flashed on, and Busters’ neon flea collar glowed like a beacon from heaven. My daughter froze in the middle of the road, paralyzed with fear, transfixed by the growing headlights. As the truck bore down on Buster, he stood his ground. He was determined that my daughter would not die alone, he was going to go with her.

Looking down on the scene, God showed mercy on our family and gave the driver uncanny instincts. The brakes slammed on and the trucks’ tires locked, but the truck continued to slide on the loose gravel. There was no way the truck could stop in that short distance…but, it did.

We reached our crying daughter then turned to look at the truck. There was Buster, never having moved an inch staring up at the front bumper that was at his nose, still barking his challenge.

The elderly driver and his wife were as distraught as we were and climbed out on shaky legs.

Through all of the crying and praises to God, I heard the driver whisper, "That dog saved that babys’ life. If he hadn’t run into the road, I wouldn’t have seen her. Never seen anything like that in my life!"

Now that I am divorced, I don’t see Buster that often. The girls are older and wiser and have a great respect for the road. They are very careful when they go near it. They have no choice, because Buster is always there in front of them looking up and down the road, watching. I give gratitude to this little guardian angel that would offer his life to protect the girls that he cherishes.

Thank you, Buster, the little dog with the heart of a lion.

Take care.