“Ruger: My Four-Legged Hero”

It was one of those lazy afternoons where the world felt almost too quiet. Ruger and I were on our usual loop around the lake, the kind of walk we’d done a hundred times before. The air smelled like wet leaves and dirt, and the only sounds were the occasional splash of fish breaking the surface of the water and Ruger’s steady panting as he trotted beside me. He was in his element—sniffing every bush, chasing squirrels that darted out of reach, and generally being the goofball he always is.

But today… something was different. At first, I didn’t notice it. Ruger had been acting a little strange for a few minutes, pacing back and forth instead of bounding ahead like normal. Then, without warning, he lunged at me, nipping at my ankles. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make me stumble backward. “What the hell, Ruger?” I snapped, turning to look at him. His ears were flat against his head, his tail stiff—not wagging like it usually does when he’s playing.

Before I could say anything else, he wrapped himself around my leg, his dew claws digging into my jeans like he was trying to pull me back. I yanked my leg away, annoyed. “Knock it off!” I said sharply, reaching down to grab him. But instead of letting me, he bolted around me, barking frantically. It wasn’t his playful bark—it was sharp, urgent, like he was trying to tell me something.

That’s when I saw it. Coiled up against the base of a rotting log just a few feet away was a copperhead snake. Its scales glinted dully in the dim light, and its head was raised slightly, poised to strike. My stomach dropped. If Ruger hadn’t stopped me, I would’ve walked right into it.