To the Max!
The day our dopey dog turned walkies into an extreme sport
Heading to my sister’s house, I was looking forward to the day ahead. It was a cold day in January 2022 and I was off on an annual hike in memory of my mum Dawn, who’d died from bowel cancer in 2012, aged 49.
To raise money for different cancer charities.
Today, I planned to walk the 13-mile cliffside Seven Sisters trail in Sussex with my cousin and two friends.
And my sister Janice’s Border collie Max and my Border collie Wendy.
‘Thanks for taking him,’ she said, clipping Max and Wendy, both 5, on to their leads and passing them to me.
‘You know I love him to bits,’ I replied.
We’d had the sibling pooches since they were pups, and I spent time with Max whenever I could.
He’d be no bother on our walk.
Aside from Max’s slightly dopey nature, he was good as gold.
Later, a few minutes into our trek, I let both dogs off their leads.
Excited as usual, they bounded up the hill, tails wagging.
‘They’ll have to wait for us to catch up!’ I laughed to my friend.
Only, within minutes I could hear barking.
Looking up, I could see it was Wendy.
Max must’ve followed his nose somewhere to explore.
I jogged up the hill to see if I could spot him.
But he was nowhere to be seen.
‘Max!’ I called over and over again.
Then my cousin started shouting. ‘Look! He’s there!’
She was pointing over the cliff.
I scanned the water and there was Max, swimming in the choppy sea 100ft below!
Whipping out my phone with shaking hands, I called the coastguards. ‘Please help!’ I begged. ‘We’ll send a team out,’ the man said.
I couldn’t take my eyes off Max, doing his best doggy paddle against
With shaking hands, I called the coastguards
the current.
I snapped a picture, texted it to Janice.
Don’t call, I warned her, wanting to concentrate on Max.
Eventually, he managed to swim to a patch of shingle, dragging himself from the sea.
‘Good boy,’ I sobbed. But the shingle and the shore were separated by more water and Max was too scared to get back into the sea.
He was trapped. When the coastguards arrived, they couldn’t get to him either.
Their boat was too big to approach the little island Max was on.
I made my way down to the shore and watched, Wendy at my side, feeling so helpless.
After a tense 45 minutes, the RNLI arrived and rowed to Max in a lighter boat and pulled him to safety.
Approaching the beach, Max saw me, leapt into the shallow water and thundered towards us.
‘I’m so happy you’re OK,’ I cried as he gave a big shake, soaking us all.
Max seemed surprisingly unaffected by it all.
Happily munching his way through some chicken sandwiches on his way home.
As soon as we walked through the door back at Janice’s, she was cuddling him and checking him for injuries.
But he was fine. We took him to the vet the day after just to be sure and they gave him the all-clear.
I just cannot thank the coastguards and the RNLI enough.
One thing’s for sure, next time we go for walkies, Mad Max is staying on his lead.
My heart won’t take another of his adventures.