**Diary Entry**
Exhausted, the dog emerged from the woods with a backpack strapped to his side. Its contents would later unsettle the police.
“Thunder, come on!” he called to his loyal companion.
The dog wagged his tail eagerly. These woodland walks were their shared joyEdward collecting mushrooms while Thunder explored new scents and chased squirrels.
That morning was specialcool but sunny, with a thin mist draped over the pine tops. Perfect for what foragers call a “silent hunt.” Edward packed quickly: a thermos of tea, a few sandwiches, a knife, and a basket. At the last moment, he tossed in an old notebook and pencila habit from his days as a surveyor, always needing something to jot things down.
The first two hours were wonderful. The basket grew heavy with sturdy porcini and golden chanterelles. Thunder darted ahead, then turned back to his master, barking excitedly about his discoveries.
“How about another hour, then home?” Edward scratched the dogs neck, pulling out his phone to photograph a particularly fine boletus.
“No signal,” the screen blinked indifferently.
“Never mind, well be back in range soon,” he muttered, snapping the photo before slipping the phone into his pocket.
They strayed into an unfamiliar part of the forest. The ancient trees grew so densely that sunlight barely pierced the canopy. Fallen trunks, blanketed in moss, rustled underfoot.
“Thunder, stay close!” Edward commanded, a flicker of unease rising.
Then the unexpected happenedhis foot slipped on a wet log. Sharp pain shot through his ankle. His vision darkened. He fell, scrambling for grip but only scattering items from his loosely fastened backpack.
“Damn it” Edward groaned, trying to push himself up. His leg wouldnt obey.
Thunder whined anxiously, nuzzling his masters face.
“Easy, boy, easy” Edward attempted a smile but only managed a grimace.
Time crawled. The sun dipped lower. Every attempt to stand or even crawl sent waves of pain, blackening his vision.
You know that helplessness when you realise you cant get out alone? Thats what Edward felt.
“Think, Edward, think” he whispered, clinging to clarity.
His gaze fell on the scattered belongingsthe notebook, pencil, useless phone. And faithful Thunder, never leaving his side. Then, an idea struck.
“Thunder, come!” His voice shook, but the command was clear.
The dog approached, eyes fixed on his master.
With trembling hands, Edward tore a page from the notebook. *”If you find this note, help! Trapped in woods, broken leg, no signal. Approx. coordinates: grid 25-26, near old logging site”* He scribbled a few more lines, then checked them with grim satisfaction.
Thunder waited patiently as Edward fastened the backpack to him.
“Listen carefully, boy.” He cupped the dogs muzzle. “Home. Understand? *Home!*”
Thunder whimpered, unwilling to leave.
“Home! Go!” The last command was hoarse.
And Thunder ran. They say dogs feel our pain. Maybe thats why they perform such featsor perhaps love simply makes us all stronger, regardless of how many legs we have.
Edward leaned against a pine trunk. Twilight thickened. An owl hooted in the distance. His leg throbbed, but he focused on one thought: *Thunder will make it. He must.* All he could do was wait and believe.
Tired paws slipped on damp grass. Thunder panted heavily but pressed on, the battered backpack swaying. An hour without stopping, without water, without rest. Only forwardto people, to help.
*”Home, Thunder, home!”* His masters voice echoed in his mind. The dog pushed through aching pads, tangled undergrowth, exhaustion, and fear.
Dusk had fallen when flickering lights appeared ahead. A patrol car braked sharply, nearly hitting the exhausted dog. A young constable, Thomas, leapt out.
“Oi, mate, whered you come from?”
Thunder froze, wary eyes pleading*understand, help, hurry!*
“Thomas, look!” his partner called. “A backpack! Theres a note inside”
Thomass hands trembled as he read. The words blurred.
“Blimey” he breathed. “Get dispatch on the line, quick! And water for the dognow!”
Thunder lapped greedily from a plastic bowl. Each gulp revived him, but time was short. He kept glancing at the officers*why the delay?*
Sometimes seconds stretch into eternity. Especially when you knowout there in the dark, someones waiting to be saved.
“Find his owner!” Thomas finally ordered. “Go!”
Thunder bolted into the woods. Behind him, men stumbled, swore, but kept pace. Torchlight flickered through the trees, radios crackled. And still, Thunder rantoward the old pine where a man lay, trusting his friend would bring help.
“Wait!” Thomas shouted suddenly. “Thereup ahead!”
In the torchlight, a figure slumped against a trunkEdward, pale and barely conscious but alive.
“I knew” he whispered as medics lifted him into the ambulance. “Knew youd do it, boy.”
Thunder rested his head on Thomass knee. He hadnt even the strength to whine.
“Come home with me tonight, lad,” Thomas said softly, scratching the dogs ear. “Rest while your masters in hospital. Then well see.”
Sometimes fate teaches us in unexpected ways. For Constable Thomas Whitmore, his teacher was a dog named Thunder.
“Right, what am I supposed to do with you?” Thomas stood in his bachelor flat, eyeing his new housemate.
Thunder, clean and fed, lingered in the hallway as if unsure. His intelligent gaze asked, *”May I?”*
“Get in here, hero!” Thomas waved him in. “Its no palace, but well manage for a month.”
The first night was restless. Thunder whined, paced, scratched at the door.
“Hey, mate,” Thomas knelt beside him at 3 a.m. “I get ityou miss him. But your owners recovering, promise. Till then lets try being friends, yeah?”
As if understanding, Thunder pressed against his leg and sighed.
Day by day, their routine settled. Morning jogs (whod have thought Thomas would run again?), breakfast for two, the walk to work.
“Whitmore, you got a dog now?” colleagues teased, watching Thunder trot proudly through the station.
“Just fostering,” Thomas brushed it off, though pride warmed his chest.
And Thunder? He seemed determined to repay his temporary keeper. Each morning, he met Thomas with slippers in his teeth (where *had* he found them?), fetched dropped items.
“Cheeky bugger!” Thomas laughed, rewarding him with treats.
Evenings transformed. Once spent listlessly scrolling his phone, now
“Yknow, mate,” Thomas murmured, scratching Thunders ear, “since the divorce, Ive not felt this *not* alone, yknow?”
The dog sighed understandingly, resting his head on his lap.
They walked in the park, where Thunder chased pigeons and greeted other dogs. They visited Edward in hospitalhe improved daily, laughing at tales of Thunders antics.
“Recognise my troublemaker,” Edward grinned. “Cheers for looking after him, Tom.”
Time slipped by, and beneath it all, an unfamiliar dread grewhow would Thomas cope when Thunder went home?
The day Edward was discharged, the flat felt unnaturally empty. Thunder, overjoyed, circled his true master but kept glancing back at Thomas.
“Yknow,” Edward said suddenly, “hes grown fond of you too.”
“Yeah, and Ive” Thomas hesitated. “Listen, maybe maybe I could visit sometimes?”
“Course!” Edward smiled. “But firstcheck the shelter. Think someones waiting for you.”
The next day, a new “officer” joined the stationa scruffy terrier named Spark.
