It was midnight. Valentine’s Day. My husband heard a noise and looked down the hall to see the glass door to the kitchen glowing. It was on fire and our beautiful dogs, Rosie and Curly were trapped in the adjoining lounge.
They were just five years old – both adopted – Rosie as a pup, Curly at two.
I called Triple 0 and we raced along the balcony from our bedroom to the lounge window. Smoke and flames were everywhere. My husband had somehow picked up an office chair and smashed the window. We screamed for our dogs to come and finally, Rosie crept over and I grabbed her collar and pulled her out. Kyle found a hose and sprayed at the burning curtains but when he heard Curly cry out, he just fell down in grief. Meanwhile, I ran out the front and pleaded with the arriving fireys “please save my dog”. And they did. As water and foam flowed through our home, and blood pumped from a cut on my wrist from the broken window, we lay on the grass, a dog resting on each of our chests. Two-way unconditional love – which continued for 11 years.

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