Submitter: Trish Kamps

Essay: While I was vacationing in September 2009, my six-year-old beagle/rottweiler mix rescue dog, Hayley, stayed in Chicago with my daughter Caitie. After Caitie took her out early one morning, Hayley, always very agreeable, refused to go back in the house. Instead, she began running circles around Caitie, howling and pulling at her clothes. Although Hayley was entirely unfamiliar with the neighborhood, she dragged Caitie by the pants cuff into the alleyway behind the yard and several hundred yards down its length. There, hidden behind a Dumpster, lay a young man dressed only in his underwear, his hands and feet bound with rope, his lower face and mouth completely wrapped in duct tape. Although the human ear could not detect his smothered moans, Hayley's exceptional canine hearing could...and did!

After the 25-year-old victim was untaped, he gasped that he'd been dumped there the night before in what police called a possible kidnapping. He was taken to the hospital and later released in good condition, tearfully crediting Hayley with saving his life.

Submitter: Marina McBain

Essay: Our then-five-year-old female German shepherd, Smokie, woke up my husband and me in the middle of the night during an intense snowstorm back in January 2005. She kept nudging us with her nose as we tried to hide under the covers, and she just would not let up until we finally went downstairs to our front door. The snow and wind were so loud that we thought they were scaring her. To humor Smokie, I opened my front door only to find a man face down in about three feet of snow. Once we got him into our house, he was able to tell us his house was on fire. Somehow he had been able to crawl out a window and get himself across the street to our house before he passed out. We quickly called 911.

If it were not for Smokie, our neighbor would have frozen to death and his house would have burned to the ground. Thanks to Smokie's persistence, our neighbor survived the night. She truly was a hero that night and true to her name.

Submitter: Dean Kelsey

Essay: My dog, a seven-year-old German shepherd female named Hallie, is a true hero. Several months ago, Hallie was at home with my ex-wife when a trio of daytime burglars armed with a handgun forced their way into the home. What the burglars didn't know was that Hallie was asleep in the master suite along with my ex. Upon kicking in the locked bedroom door, they were immediately confronted with a very unhappy Hallie, who chased them downstairs and throughout the lower portion of the home. As they attempted to escape out the front door, Hallie gave chase, ensuring they left empty-handed.

As family members returned home, we found a very upset Hallie, who was bleeding from her mouth. We immediately took her to our family veterinarian, who initially determined that she had most likely bitten through her own tongue in an effort to defend her territory.

Almost a month later, after Hallie developed a large lump on the side of her neck, follow-up x-rays determined that she had a bullet lodged just under her skin. Emergency surgery recovered the bullet, which was turned over to local police officers. The three cowardly burglars, who later admitted to shooting Hallie in the mouth as they fled the residence, were captured and eventually convicted of numerous crimes in the area, including an assault of a male senior citizen during a similar burglary.

Looking back on the incident, we shudder to think what could have happened if Hallie hadn't been willing to literally "take a bullet" for her family and her home. Due to the violent history of the intruders, we believe Hallie saved my ex-wife's life. Hallie has recovered fully and remains an extremely important part of our lives.

Submitter: Ann Blandford

Essay: My husband and I have lived in the Nome, Alaska, area for almost 35 years. We've had many, many sled dogs, along with some pet dogs. Stinky, our latest and greatest dog, will always be my hero. He is a Nome mix named after a local bush pilot, Stinky Hardy. Our Stinky is about 40 pounds, with long black hair. If he gained 100 pounds, he could pass for a Newfoundland. He always looks out for me while I hike, cross-country ski, and pick berries. He has protected me from aggressive moose, angry muskoxen, and, most recently, a huge grizzly bear.

I was out for my morning walk when I heard a noise behind me. I turned around and was shocked to see a large blond grizzly bear barreling down the tundra hillside in my direction.

Stinky immediately burst into action. He ran up to the charging grizzly and started nipping at his ankles. The angry grizzly tried to swat him back and forth. Stinky herded the bear back up the hill while I tried to sneak back home a mile or so through the open tundra.

The grizzly circled back down the hill. Stinky was on him again! I made it home safely. Stinky, my hero!

Submitter: Carol Moser

Essay: My hero is Hootie, a beautiful English setter. He belongs to my son, who lives on a mountainside in New Hampshire.

One July I was house- and dog-sitting for my son, and at dusk I went out to the kennel to bring Hootie in. I put the leash on him, and as I started toward the house, I looked up and saw a moose calf standing beside the garage. I knew enough to get out of there, and started to run for the deck. As I did, I saw momma moose come up over the banking and start after us. She could run 35 miles per hour; I could not. She was so close to me that I could smell her. I looked over my shoulder and was looking her in the eye. She hit me with her head and knocked me down.

As she reared up on her hind legs to stomp me, Hootie got between us, barking and snapping his jaws at her. The moose then gave all her attention to him. She kept trying to stomp him, and he kept running in and out at her, which gave me a chance to get up and run for the deck. Once on the deck, I called to Hootie, and he came immediately. Momma looked us over, turned around, collected her calf, and went down the way she had come.

When I got in the house I realized Hootie could not bear any weight on one of his hind legs. I felt it carefully and decided he was bruised and had nothing broken. I had a bloody arm from falling. Nothing serious. Hootie stayed glued to my ankle for the rest of the night. He slept by my bed, and by morning was walking on his leg as if nothing had happened. There is no doubt in my mind that momma moose would have seriously injured or, worse, killed me if not for Hootie. He will always be my hero. The strange thing is that Hootie is the gentlest, most loving, and laid-back dog ever. I never expected that kind of bravery from him.

Submitter: Susan Gheens

Essay: Christmas 2005: we leave our mixed golden retriever with my in-laws while we go on a short holiday. While my mother-in-law, Dorothy, is putting away her Christmas decorations, she falls down the basement stairs and breaks both her ankles. Elmer, her 90-year-old husband, who is almost completely deaf, doesn't hear her cry out. But Annie, our dog, does.

Annie goes to Elmer and tries to get him to the door. He thinks she needs to go outside. Annie refused to budge. He thinks she wants a treat. Annie doesn't take the treat. He thinks she wants water, but her bowl is full. Finally, Annie takes Elmer's pants leg in her teeth and pulls him over to the basement doorway.

Once there, Elmer sees his wife at the bottom of the steps and realizes the seriousness of the situation. At that point he calls the ambulance. My mother-in-law had to have surgery to repair one of the broken bones. She still has screws and a steel plate in that ankle.

In describing the experience, Dorothy said, "After I fell, Annie came to the top of the stairs and barked at me. After she left, I was just praying that she'd get Elmer and bring him to me. I could not believe my eyes when I looked up, and there they were. Annie had Elmer's pant's leg in her mouth. It was a miracle!"

We received special permission to take Annie to the hospital to see Dorothy and meet the hospital staff. Annie is a "found" dog—we found her running our city streets, dragging a ten-foot-long chain, when she was only six months old. She was emaciated and covered in fleas. We took her in, and she has been with us now for ten years. Her "grandma" still gives her special treats and tells the rescue story every chance she gets.

Submitter: Diana Fitzgerald

Essay: Silver is a nine-year-old Louisiana Catahoula leopard hound I've had since she was born. She was one of a litter of nine puppies I was selling but for some reason kept holding her back. When she was three months old, she was with me while I was gardening when she was bitten by a large rattlesnake. Her vet said the snake was between eight and ten feet long, and if it had bitten me I would be dead. Silver became my hero that day. I made her and myself a promise: she would be with me for the rest of her life. I didn't know then that she would save my life again, but she did. 

On August 6, 2002, my only child died at the age of 28. Some friends and neighbors came to my home after hearing about my son's death. That same day a candle was knocked over and started a fire in my bedroom. No one noticed the fire. But Silver did—she was nervously scratching and barking at the closed door. She alerted me to the fire, and saved the lives of more than 15 people and three other dogs.

After returning from my son's funeral, Silver and I became ever more inseparable. Since my son's death I suffer from PTSD, severe depression, panic and anxiety attacks, and other depressive disorders, and have been hospitalized several times. When I start slipping down the dark hole of depression, it is Silver who is the first to notice. She sits on my feet, pushes me to the floor when I start crying uncontrollably, and lies with me until I can't cry another tear. She jumps into bed and sleeps with me on my really bad nights. I take Silver with me whenever and wherever I can. I thank God for putting her in my life, for saving my life, and for being everything I need her to be. She is now a "service dog," and everyone who meets her instantly loves her. Especially me!

Submitter: Jorge Garcia-Bengochea

Essay: Magic, our very tiny blue-eyed miniature therapy horse, works with adults and children inside hospitals, hospice programs, and assisted-living programs. She also works with abused children and children with disabilities. Magic walks up and down stairs, rides in elevators, moves around hospital equipment...and, yes, is housebroken.

Magic has been part of many little miracles and has touched hundreds of lives in our hometown and the north Florida area over the past few years. She is a special friend to an eight-year-old girl who had a heart transplant and now is winning her fight with leukemia. Magic was with someone as he woke from a coma. She was with someone who peacefully passed away with his hand resting on Magic's head.

Magic's latest miracle happened three months ago. While a reporter was taking photos of a therapy-horse visit, a woman who had not spoken since she arrived at an assisted care facility more than three years earlier suddenly began talking to Magic.

"Isn't she beautiful?" were her first words. "It's a horse," she said, surprised to see a horse in the living room.

The activities director and staff began to cry and told the woman they loved her.

"I love you too," the woman answered. Before Magic left, the woman asked, "Will she come back again?" The woman has continued to talk to everyone from that day on, a life changed because of a special horse.

Submitter: James M. Jones

Essay: My life was saved by my cat, Cookie, who awoke me in a smoke-filled room after my electric blanket malfunctioned and set my bed on fire. Cookie stood in the doorway and rapidly repeated an "alarm meow" until I woke up. That was the first time I had heard such an urgent meow. I had been inhaling smoke and was quite groggy, but I managed to leave the bedroom and call 911. The local television station dubbed Cookie the "hero cat" and featured her on the news as the lead story. A feline hero and one who literally saved my life.

Submitter: Larry Eastlack

Essay: All spring we had been watching a family of baby foxes grow up in the pasture behind our house. One day I was standing on our back deck when I noticed that an adult fox was pulling the pups out of their den and shaking them hard, one at a time. In an effort to scare the intruder away, I ran into the field yelling and waving my arms. About 30 feet away, the mangy-looking fox dropped the pup and turned his attention toward me. I spun around and began to run the 200 yards back to the house, but I was no match for the speed of the fox. Just when the animal was within 15 feet, a little blur of white ran by me and collided with the fox, the two of them rolling head-over-heels in a cloud of dust. Max, my Jack Russell terrier, had come to my rescue!

Though Max was out of his league, he fought off the fox long enough for me to gain some distance. Then Max would run away yelping in pain, allowing the fox to continue his pursuit of me. But whenever the fox would get within about 15 feet, Max would make another fearless charge in defense of his master. This cycle of attack and retreat went on numerous times until I was able to get back to the safety of the house. Not until Max was sure that I was safe did he make his final retreat to the house as well. We called a neighbor, who came over and shot the fox, which turned out to be rabid. After we did our best to clean and bandage Max's wounds, we took our 20-pound warrior to the vet, where Max was stitched up and given a booster shot.