The Strange Way My Dog Saved Me From Certain Death (2 of 3)

He didn’t flinch. His eyes stayed fixed on me, sharp and unblinking. When I tried to climb again, he yanked harder, nearly pulling me off balance.

“Cut it out! You’ll make me fall!” I scolded, prying his jaws loose. He dropped back, only to lunge again, grabbing fabric with a stubbornness I’d never seen in him.

At first, I thought it was some strange game, a burst of canine mischief. But there was something in his stare—an intensity, almost like a warning. My irritation mixed with unease. Why was he so desperate to stop me?

I finally pushed him away and climbed down, heart pounding with frustration. “That’s it,” I muttered. “You’re going on the chain.”

His ears drooped as if he knew he’d disappointed me, but I didn’t soften. I fastened him to the kennel, certain that now I could work in peace.

I turned back to the ladder, gripping it firmly. The job would take only minutes, I told myself. Just a few quick cuts and I’d be done.

Then it happened.

A blinding flash tore across the sky. The crack of thunder followed instantly, shaking the ground beneath me. In that same second, lightning slammed into the apple tree—into the exact spot I had been about to climb.

The explosion was deafening. Sparks showered down, bark splintered, smoke rising in the still air. I staggered backward, shielding my face with trembling hands.

For a heartbeat, I couldn’t move. My body went cold as the realization settled in. If I’d been up there—if Max hadn’t stopped me—I would have been standing right in the strike zone.

Slowly, I turned to him.