This story was told to me by a schoolteacher many years ago. I cannot substantiate the story — I’ve gone online and tried. There are numerous tales of animal bravery during times of war (such as Judy during World War II), and every now and then, I’ll find a story that has a few parallels (like this one). But I haven’t been able to find this story anywhere else. All I can tell you is that the teacher insisted it was true.
I really hope she wasn’t pulling my leg, because it’s such a great story!
Part of me is hesitant to even share it at all, lest it get debunked by Internet sleuths — the original PJ Media! — and this tragic, heartbreaking tale unmasked as a fraud.
I certainly wouldn’t fault anyone for being skeptical.
But then again, we just witnessed a presidential election where we argued about McDonald’s, garbage trucks, and a dead squirrel. Sometimes, stories that sound too perfect (or too weird) to possibly be true really are true!
And so, our story begins in prewar Poland, where there was a wealthy Jewish family and a young boy. They lived in a remote, rural area; the boy had nobody to play with. Very few people lived nearby, and amongst the handful of children in their village, few wanted to socialize with a Jew.
The boy was lonely.
Concerned, the boy’s father decided to buy a dog for his boy. Not just any dog either: He was determined to get the very best.
Eventually, he found the puppy he was looking for: It was the pick of the litter! From the finest family! From the purest bloodlines! Bigger and stronger than the rest!
The boy, of course, didn’t care about any of that. He didn’t care how much it cost (which was a lot).
All he cared about was his new best friend: It was love at first sight.
The boy and the dog went everywhere together. They played together. They went on adventures together. And each night, they snuggled together — warm, snug, and happy in each other’s arms.
It was a dream come true.
But dreams turned into nightmares when the Germans descended. The boy and his family managed to escape; tragically, far too many of their Jewish brothers and sisters did not. The death toll was staggering.
Amidst the chaos and desperation, the boy and the dog were separated. The family was stripped of everything — their home, their money, their wealth, their possessions. All they had was each other.
Sobbing, the boy would dream of his dog every night, clutching his heart in a tight, sutured grip.
The boy had no idea what happened to his best friend. He had no idea that the Germans routinely rounded up animals, pets, and livestock, reappropriating them for the war effort. Nor did he know that a dog like his would be especially prized by the Germans as a watchdog.
The boy knew none of this. The agony of not knowing was haunting.
Shortly thereafter, fate transformed that boy into a man: He was now a soldier in the resistance, bravely leading his compatriots into battle. Innocent no longer, he redirected his anger and outrage at the Germans, mastering the art of guerilla warfare.
But eventually, he was caught.
After the Germans rounded up the boy and five others, they imprisoned them in a temporary holding area — their last stop before the Final Solution.
Time was running out.
The boy spotted an opportunity: A small gap in the German security! If he and his friends coordinated this with pinpoint precision, they could wait for the guards to switch, sprint through a corridor, round the backend corner, and escape through the open field.
It was risky, but it was their only chance.
At exactly the right moment, the boy and his friends sprinted through the corridor. They rounded the corner at breakneck speed.
But before they could hit the open field, four growling German watchdogs chased them down, trapping the boy and his friends. There was nowhere to go! The lead dog — which was noticeably taller and larger than the others — bared his teeth and growled like a demon.
And that’s when something unexpected happened: The lead dog stopped growling. He leaned his head from left, then to right, and back to left. And then he made a soft, strange, whimpering noise — and licked the boy’s hand for the very last time.
Sadly and deliberately, the dog turned its head away from the boy, his dark eyes affixed to the other three dogs.
And then he attacked.
No growling; no warning; the lead dog charged the first dog, tearing its throat asunder. Dogs two and three fell just as fast. The lead dog was even attacking the other German guards — creating so much chaos and confusion that the boy and his friends were able to escape.
The dog did not survive.
Later, the Germans — who always were meticulous with their paperwork — recorded their utter bafflement in their official report: How could this happen? That dog was the best of the best! It was… the pick of the litter! From the finest family! From the purest bloodlines! Bigger and stronger than the rest!
But the boy and the dog? They knew the truth.
Because some friendships really do last forever.
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