It was one of those calm spring mornings when everything feels right in the world. The neighborhood of Willow Creek was quiet birds singing on the rooftops, sunlight dripping gently through blooming trees, and the air fresh with the scent of lilacs.
At the corner of Maple Street, Sarah Miller stepped outside with her loyal golden retriever, Buddy, for their usual morning walk. Sarah was seven months pregnant and radiant with that unmistakable glow of soon-to-be motherhood. Her husband, Tom, worked long hours as a firefighter, often away for days at a time. Buddy had become her shadow, her silent protector, and her greatest comfort.
The Uneasy Feeling
That morning, the air felt different strangely heavy, as if something unseen was watching. The chirping of birds faded, replaced by an odd, uncomfortable stillness.
Buddy noticed it first. His tail stiffened, ears perked up, and his golden fur bristled. A low growl rumbled in his chest.
Sarah frowned, gently tugging his leash.
“Buddy, it’s okay. Probably just a squirrel,” she said softly.
But Buddy didn’t move. His deep brown eyes were locked on the line of trees ahead.
The park path was empty or so it seemed. Then came a sound faint, like footsteps crunching on dry leaves. Sarah’s heart skipped a beat. She turned, scanning the area, but saw no one.
And then, from behind the trees, a man stepped out.
He was tall, with disheveled hair, tattered clothes, and eyes that darted restlessly. His voice cracked as he spoke:
“Ma’am… do you have a phone? I… I need help.”
At first, he seemed harmless maybe a homeless man or someone lost. But as he came closer, something about his expression froze Sarah in place. There was no fear in his eyes, only calculation.
Buddy sensed it too. His growl deepened, his body lowering in a protective stance.
The Attack
Before Sarah could react, the man lunged forward.
She screamed, stumbling back, one hand clutching her belly. Buddy exploded into motion a golden blur of fur and fury. He threw himself between Sarah and the man, barking ferociously. The sound shattered the stillness of the park.
The attacker swung a stick toward the dog, but Buddy was too fast. He dodged and snapped at the man’s arm, his teeth catching the sleeve of his jacket. The man cursed, yanking free, but Buddy lunged again, this time driving him back several steps.
Sarah tried to run, but her foot caught on a root. She fell hard to the ground, a sharp pain shooting through her side. She cried out not for herself, but for the tiny life inside her.
Buddy heard her cry and turned his head just for a moment enough for the attacker to grab a rock and raise it. But before he could strike, Buddy charged again, leaping high and knocking the weapon from his hand.
The man stumbled back, lost his balance, and fell. Fear flashed in his eyes and he ran, disappearing into the trees as quickly as he’d appeared.
Buddy didn’t chase him. He ran straight to Sarah’s side, whining softly, licking her hands, and nudging her face as if to ask, “Are you okay?”
