Lest we forget! Heroes are not always the ones with only two feet, and sometimes four-footed heroism is only a simple act of kindness.
In 1987, Berners in Canada were a rare sight. My husband and I were walking one of our Berners down Whyte Avenue in Edmonton. We strolled past an outdoor cafe and we heard the words “a Sennenhund” coming from one of the tables. Most people at the time could not identify a Bernese Mountain Dog and certainly didn’t know their Swiss-German name. An elderly man and his daughter were sitting at the table, and she asked if we would come over so her dad could see Cliff.
I was concerned that Cliff would be a bit too rambunctious for the elderly man but we took him over. The man slowly reached down and wrapped his arms around Cliff’s neck and buried his face in his coat. After hugging Cliff for an unusually long time, the gentleman sat back up with tears streaming down his face. When he regained his composure, he told us stories of his wartime experiences.
His platoon in Europe used dogs to transport ammunition, food and medical supplies. Several of those dogs were Bernese Mountain Dogs.
He had lots of stories of his fellow soldiers and the dogs that served alongside. But the one story that stood out the most was that the only times he remembered being warm enough to sleep was when one of the Berners would sleep with him, keeping him safe and warm, even during the horrors of war.
He had held on to his love and gratitude for Bernese Mountain Dogs for all those years.
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from Tracey in Canada
(Editor’s note: Tracey and Cliff have reunited at the Rainbow Bridge. I found it particularly poignant that this story came to my attention just before Veterans Day.)