Happy was a stray dog rescued by the author and his wife after losing their previous dog Lacey. Through training, Happy learned to follow commands but still had a wild side. While out walking on the beach during bad weather, the author fell and broke his hip and hand. Happy pulled the author to safety and then frantically barked for help. A woman came and called for an ambulance, saving the author's life. The author and Happy continue training together slowly as the author recovers.

2. Happy, The Hero
www.theevansgroupllc.com 1
My wife and I live in NW Florida along a 7-mile national park called the Gulf
Islands National Seashore, just across from this barrier reef island, with the
Santa Rosa Sound separating us from the Gulf.
I am 64 years old; I walk the shores year round and swim long distance out into
the Gulf year round, with water temperatures ranging from 62 to 86 degrees.
The sands, driftwood, and shifting tide pools create a “new beach” every day that
I am there walking or swimming, and being a national park it has no commercial
areas and few lifeguards, only in the summer months.
It is the “Zen” of all beaches; changing by the minute, dangerous with rip tides
and opposing currents, and as desolate in winter as one could imagine. I’ve
swum with dolphins many times year round, and through schools of pompano,
flounder, algae and jellyfish, in a true ecological wonder of the U.S.
In August 2013, my wife and I had lost our dog Lacey, 14 years old, after bouts
with cancer and even losing a leg, and then this perfectly trained black lab mutt
died. To learn more about Lacey and how she taught us to live, see my article on
Lacey, The Conqueror. You will see why we had decided against ever having a
dog again, fearful of losing to death yet again, and not being willing to handle the
pain.
But in May 2014, while I was still reeling from the loss of “my Lacey” another
stray dog came our way. Our daughter found him on the streets of San Antonio,
Texas. About one year old, marred from being in dogfights and living on the
streets, this dog had pit bull in him, a ripped ear, and was not handsome. Of
course, my wife and I took him, as he was to be put down. We named him
Happy, as happiness was something we both needed desperately in our lives at
that time.
Happy is a quintessential dog - wild, rambunctious, dirty, and almost impossible
to train. Much like Lacey, Happy needed training - he needed to understand what
was expected of him, and if he had to accept the proposition or not. However,
while ultimately it was Lacey who trained me, with Happy it was he who needed
my structure and guidance. For the past year we’ve been working to understand
each other and Happy has learned to follow my commands, one step at a time. It
has taken patience and time on both our parts - and is a journey we’re still on.
In January 2015 Happy he was diagnosed with “Live Adult Heartworms”, it’s very
dangerous and a high chance of death. We spent a lot of money, time and fear
as he went through treatment. For three months he had to live quietly: no walks,
no chasing balls and the opposite of who he was. That took training. We then
had to wait nine months with his living a normal dog’s life, on pins and needles
while the medicine either worked, or he would have died.

3. Happy, The Hero
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In early January 2016 he had just been given a clean bill of health and off I went
to fully train him, and help him with his being wild and rambunctious.
Happy and I began serious training (it takes two to train) and I spent every day
for two hours walking him, “sneaking him” on the wild Gulf Island beach during
the winter months of NW Florida when none are around, and truly training.
Two weeks later on January 21, 2016, I left midday in blinding rain, 16 mph per
hour wind gusts, 62 degrees water temperature and 58 degrees out, for a long
walk with our “mutt” Happy. Off training again, and learning one another.
I know, I'm nuts, I love this sort of thing, walking along the natural 7 mile stretch
of national seashore in the rain. It’s been on these walks that Happy and I have
been able to finally get in sync, training each other one-step at a time. Half an
hour into our walk I slipped on an old rock seawall, mostly submerged in the sand
and covered with algae.
I fell hard. My hands were gloved, but in my fall I broke my right hand, already
arthritic, holding on to Happy’s leash, and bracing myself as I fell against the hard
rock.
And I broke my hip.
I am a long distance ocean swimmer, a marathon runner, and truly in superb
shape. 5’7”, 119 lbs., and only 1 to 2% body fat, and at 65 I had just been
diagnosed by my physician as being in “perfect shape”, a gnarly long distance
swimmer that was all sinew. This is not good for someone to break a hip.
I fell in one foot of lapping water, right at waters edge and cold on this stormy
day. Fully dressed for the pouring rain and heavy winds I soaked clear through
quickly and was dead weight. I tried crawling one foot at time. Happy stayed on
his training leash, hooked to my broken hand. Movement was excruciating, and I
soon let go of his leash, and lay there for about five minutes, then tried crawling
again now only an inch at a time. I could not take the pain so lay there. Happy
was frantic, racing around me, barking at me. This was not in our training
manual.
He saved my life. I grabbed his collar and he pulled me 25 feet, my screaming
all the way from pain and holding on to the collar yelling in a whisper PULL.
About thirty minutes passed and he got me to a driftwood edge of old dock and
somehow got under me and WE, in tune with one another leveraged me to a
sitting position against the driftwood, out of the water.
Time has no logic here, I had a cell phone in my soaked jacket but could not
reach it, and I had no idea of where I was, how much time had passed, or what I
could do.

4. Happy, The Hero
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There were no houses in sight, of course, and no other winter beach walkers.
We were alone.
As hypothermia set in I gasped out “go get help” and he began running, leash
dragging behind him. It felt like an eternity later, a lady appeared, whom Happy
had frantically barked at to make her believe something was wrong. She had
read his nametag, called my home, and soon the ambulances arrived. His
persistence beat down her fear of a loose tough looking dog on the beach,
incessantly barking at her.
Part of my training includes the words slow and easy. Happy is smarter than I
thought he was.
He saved my life.
The roles are now reversed. Happy is forced to have “no walks, no swimming at
the beach, no adventures”, and “don’t jump on Dad.”
Everyone was worried Happy would be too rambunctious, too much energy.
Amazing again, I sat and talked with him for some time when I got home from the
hospital and he has been the perfect dog. Slow and easy.
It’s been almost a month since my surgery and Happy and I are now, more than
ever, learning to walk together one step at a time.
There is so much to learn.