Before-bed read

“He became louder, more insistent, barking faster and faster. It was his on-the-job bark, and I could not imagine why he kept barking

so fiercely”

When Jude Walsh was woken up in the middle of the night by the urgent yelping of her dog, Buddy, she couldn’t imagine what had made her sweet, usually quiet pup so frantic. But when she opened the door to her son’s room, she found Buddy had good reason to bark…and was about to become a four-legged hero!

Yorkies bark, and Buddy was no exception. But he only barked for a reason and rarely for long. He was never one of those dogs that yapped if a breeze ruffled his ears or another dog barked three blocks away. If someone came to the door or he saw a squirrel, Buddy would become his most fierce self, barking and lunging as much as a little Yorkie can lunge. But he would always stop on command.

One night, though, Buddy began to bark about ten o’clock. He slept in the same room as my son, so I called out, “Quiet, Bud!” Instead of getting quiet, he became louder, more insistent, barking faster and faster. It was his on-the-job bark, and I could not imagine why he kept barking so fiercely. I wondered if we had a mouse in the house.

I got up and went into my son’s room. Buddy was on the bed and barking at Brendan, right into his face. I turned on the bedside light and saw the problem immediately. My son was on his back, breathing shallowly, with his eyes rolled back. When I tried to pull him to a seated position, he was limp and unresponsive. He slid off the bed and onto the floor.

Buddy had stopped barking and was now on the floor next to Bren, frantically licking his face. I grabbed my cellphone and dialed 911.

The dispatcher had me run down and open my front door so the EMTs could come right in. Buddy didn’t leave Bren’s side.

Buddy never once barked or growled at the emergency personnel when they arrived and worked on Bren. He seemed to step back out of their way, but hovered nearby.

As they raised up the stretcher to wheel it through the front door, I turned to Buddy. “Good boy, good boy, thank you!” I hugged him for a moment, crying all over him. “If I’m not back soon, I will send someone to let you out. Good, good boy!”

Then I shut him in Bren’s room. I was going to follow the ambulance to the hospital and had no time to waste, but I still had to thank Bud for waking me up. What might have happened if he had not?

At the hospital, Bren opened his eyes and spoke to me. He was transferred to Cardiac Intensive Care and in the morning he had a pacemaker implanted.

I was in the hospital for a couple of days, but Buddy was still at home. I had called a friend, and she went to the house to stay with Buddy, feeding him, letting him out and reassuring him that his people would be back soon. She reported that he seemed depressed, not his usual bouncy self. Most of the time, he perched on the back of the couch, looking out the window and waiting.

When I brought Bren home,

Buddy was ecstatic, wiggling with joy and jumping. Bren was exhausted, and all he wanted to do was go to bed and sleep. He was instructed to be as still as possible to allow time for his heart to heal. He had to sleep on his back.

Buddy jumped up on the bed and promptly lay across Bren’s chest. I pushed him off, trying to get him to lie next to Bren as opposed to on him. Bud was having none of it. I would push him off, and he would wiggle back up and on. I was afraid this was painful for Bren and was thinking about taking Buddy out of the room entirely. But Bren wanted Buddy.

“It’s okay, Mom. He can stay there. It doesn’t hurt too much, and I want Buddy with me.” I was not sure about this. What if Buddy somehow jostled Bren and moved those wires in his

heart? What if, as the medication wore off, it became painful to have this pressure on his chest? But Bren wanted him, and Buddy was not moving, so I decided to let it go, figuring Buddy would move over to his usual spot beside Bren in just a little while.

That was not what happened. Every time I went in to check on Bren, Buddy was right there, stretched across his chest. When I went in at 6 am, our usual wake-up time, he finally jumped down and Bren sat up gingerly. “How are you, son?”

“I’m better, Mom. Buddy stayed on my chest all night. If I tried to push him off, he crawled right back.”

Bren got up, had breakfast, and began his healing journey.

And Buddy? It seemed he only needed that one night to reassure himself that Bren’s heart was not going to stop again. He resumed sleeping in his normal location at the foot of the bed. And he never, ever barked at night again.

—Jude Walsh