Despite the fact that it was March, nature seemed to be holding its breath. In the cemetery on the outskirts of the settlement, the air was oppressively heavy. People automatically bowed their heads as the icy wind caressed the slope beside the Danube and the clouds fell so low.
rows that are silent. While some tightened their lips and stared straight ahead, others put their hands deep in their pockets. There were some wilting daffodils and some abandoned children’s toys in the grass. And, from behind the gate, a nightingale sung in an odd way.
But no one was watching him.
Not the priest, whose hands were shaking as he held the Bible.
Not even the father, whose words were blown away.
The dog that refused to leave the white coffin was the center of attention for everyone.
The dog had a dark brown collar and was a German Shepherd. As though he had assimilated with the planet. His eyes nearly pierced through the wood, sharp as razors. He hissed at anyone who attempted to move him. As a warning, not out of rage. Like he was aware of something. The humans didn’t do something crucial.
“Whose dog is that?” a woman wearing a black headscarf whispered.
Another said, “They say he belonged to the little girl.” He rescued her and the brother of her mother. This dog held a very important place in their hearts.
He is merely an animal! Why is he attending a funeral? It’s rude!
With a severe expression, a man in uniform interrupted, “What if he senses something?” He spoke in a tense yet unfeeling tone.
Up until the dog moved, everything appeared to be a typical rural funeral.
Almost subtly at first. Abruptly, he got up, moved forward, and touched the casket with his paws. There was a scream. The dog’s tail became rigid, its ears alert, and its respiration quickened. His eyes were filled with agony. Nearly human.
“Now, get him off!” yelled the funeral director.
The uniformed man yelled, “Wait!” and moved forward. I am aware of that position. On the front lines, I witnessed it when dogs detected a living person beneath the debris.
There was a deathly quiet. Fearful to move, everyone froze. The dog started whimpering, first softly and then rhythmically, getting louder and louder. Nearly furiously. And in an oddly purposeful manner.
Then the unimaginable occurred.
Faces twisted.
From the casket…
knocked.
faint.
Hardly audible. However, the dog heard it first.
With a hand on their breast, someone said, “Did you hear that?”
What was that? — a man holding a cross whispered.
The dog continued to gaze at the casket. Then he whined for a long time in mourning. Like a call from somewhere in space.
And nobody ventured to get near.
Except for one person.
— Open it, — an abrupt voice said. Firm but shaky with terror.
Incredulous, the funeral director said, “Pardon me?”
— Crack it open. The voice quiver, but not from tears anymore, if there’s even the remotest chance.
The mourners’ expressions then lost the customary sadness. Because this was no typical day, as everyone knew.
Furthermore, this dog wasn’t your typical animal.
What started out as mourning was just getting started.
Nobody made a move. As though time had paused. The cemetery was so quiet that the sound of the wind blowing across the tombstones was deafening.
The first to come forward was the uniformed man. He didn’t consult anyone or ask for permission. Simply put, he stated in a firm yet hushed voice:
We must open it if there is even a remote possibility that she is still alive.
He was accompanied by two young lads from the village. They lifted the lid of the casket together. A prayer was spoken in the audience. Others turned their heads away. The dog, however, stayed. Breathing anxiously, he approached and watched as the lid was gently opened.
There was a creak in the lid. One, two centimeters.
Then…
The young girl shuddered. Her finger twitched, and a scratchy, almost audible breath went through her body. At first, it was hardly noticeable.
She’s alive! — Someone said in shock.
— An ambulance! A woman said, “Quick!” as she frantically tried to find signal on her phone. Where in the world is this signal?
She was raised by the men, who covered her with caps and coats. An elderly man caressed the girl’s palms, took a tiny bottle of vodka out of his pocket, and poured it into his hand.
The dog stayed put. He sat and observed her. The one he’d never abandoned. The girl’s eyelids opened, and she uttered in a shaky voice:
— Morzsa
The dog recognized the name, but her voice was so low that only the person next to her could hear it. He raised his head and howled softly. They looked at each other. There was thankfulness in the dog’s. The spark of life rekindled in the girl’s.
Twenty minutes later, the ambulance came from the nearby community. Up until that point, she was buried in the ancient village of Lada, wrapped in scarves, hot water bottles, and even a wool blanket that had been brought for the tomb.
“Rare condition, deep catatonic state,” was the sole statement made by the hospital’s doctors. Vital signals are hardly perceptible. It is easily confused with death.
The physician never came back to the clinic after signing the death certificate.
The dog, on the other hand, remained at the cemetery for a few more days. Perched near the ancient tomb where his lover once lay. as though to protect it. As though anticipating an ultimate closure.
The young child’s initial query upon regaining complete consciousness was:
— Where is Morzsa?
Her mother jumped in the car and went to pick up the puppy right away. He dutifully followed her. The girl sat up when he walked in. She grinned. Her cheeks were wet with tears.
As though she would never let go, she gave the dog a strong hug. As though she was aware that a devoted heart, rather than a medical miracle, had spared her life.
Because sometimes what we think of as “just a dog” turns out to be an angel. wearing a fur coat.
