At last, I understood the reason for his desperate behavior.
A searing flash split the sky.
Thunder cracked at once. Lightning struck the apple tree directly at the trunk where I had planned to climb.
The bark exploded with a shower of sparks, smoke curling through the air.
I leapt backward, shielding my face with trembling hands.
For a long second I stood motionless, unable to breathe. Then it sank in: had it not been for my stubborn dog, I would have been up there, high on the ladder, right beside the treetop when the strike hit. The thought chilled me.
I turned to look at him.
He was standing by the kennel, the chain stretched tight, his gaze steady and full of something deeper than words. “My God,” I muttered, shivers racing across my skin.
“You saved me.”
Dropping down beside him, I wrapped my arms around his neck. He wagged his tail gently, as if to say he knew exactly what he’d done.
And in that instant, I realized a truth: sometimes our animals sense and understand what our human minds cannot.
