Victor saved my life.
Picture this: 19 years old, with no army experience whatsoever, forced to fight; to murder people I’ve never even met. What have they ever done to me? Nothing. So why drag me, and thousands of others, into a pointless war involving a conflict that can easily be sorted by sitting down and talking.
I would’ve died out there. Crouched down inside a trench, in the middle of nowhere, alone. Left to defend myself, armed with a gun I had no idea how to use.
I knew they were close, but I had no idea how close. I could hear screaming in the background, but I thought nothing of it. I was used to it.
My legs started to throb from being crouched for so long. My exact position was vital. I couldn’t let even the top of my head show, for fear of being discovered.
When Victor ran over to me, I nearly had a heart attack.
I had read about how some people used dogs to detect a human smell – so I knew this could be one of these times. Closing my eyes, preparing for the gunshot. But it didn’t come.
Instead of barking, like I expected it to, it nudged me with it’s head. It was close enough for me to hear it growling slightly under it’s breath.
I never expected a Chihuahua to be so strong. Especially since they aren’t commonly used as army dogs. But in five minutes it had dragged me halfway across the wasteland into another ditch. After yapping quietly, he ran off.
It took me a while to work out just what that dog had done, and why. Only now, 8 years later, have I finally realised.
That dog wasn’t just some random puppy trying to use me as a chew-toy.
He saved my life.
He knew I would be discovered from my hiding spot, so he moved me. Took me to the other side of the wasteland where he knew his owners’ wouldn’t stray.
That little dog saved my life.
I never saw him since.