Hector and Other Death Defying Reasons to Celebrate

It’s been months since my last blog post. Lord knows I’ve been tempted many times to denounce the many ways our nation and our world have been dragged away from all of society’s best impulses.

But Easter is approaching, and it beckons me to celebrate something.

Anything!

So, thank the Lord that I stumbled upon a piece in the New York Times today (4/2/2026) that touched me deeply. The title was “Volunteers in Helicopter Rescue Hiker’s Dog After a Week in the Wilderness.”

It seems a hiker in New Zealand named Jessica Johnston was walking extremely rugged terrain with her Border Collie, Molly, when she fell about 180 feet into the base of a waterfall. She then floated down a raging river 65 feet before she could scramble to dry ground and push the button on her locator beacon, and was finally airlifted to safety, with many cuts and bruises, but no broken bones…and no Molly.

Jessica would have had to give up ever seeing her beloved dog again, except for the compassion of a woman who runs a helicopter tour business, another woman who is experienced in thermal imaging, and about 160 other people who helped pay for the many helicopter trips it took before Molly was found.

And the NY Times article online included video: Video of Molly, who had been waiting for seven days, right there at the spot at the base of the waterfall where her human partner had disappeared; video of a rescuer lowered to the spot with his Jack Russell Terrier companion, brought along to put Molly at ease; video of the threesome being hoisted back on the helicopter; and, most beautifully, video of Molly seeing Jessica for the first time in a week, and rushing to her, wagging her tail, and licking her tearful companion on the face and arms.

“Alleluia,” I sing in my heart.

And that story reminded me: It was just about a year ago that Connie and I brought our Border Collie, Hector, into the veterinarian’s office to be put down. Hector was recovering from a urinary infection. He was being treated for Lyme disease. He was 14 years old. And that morning he tried to get up for his morning walk, and he simply couldn’t. He stumbled and fell, and I had to carry and hold him just so he could do his business.

At first I thought his was another case of vestibular syndrome that was the final straw of old age ravages for several of our other dogs. But Hector’s eyes were not darting back and forth—a sure sign of that awful malady.

Our hearts sank as we prepared to say goodbye to Hector. We were ushered into the comfy room at the animal hospital, and we sat.

But when the veterinarian came in Hector managed to get up. He went to the doc, put his head between her legs, and wagged his tail.

In the examination the vet discovered that, yes, there was a slight twitching of Hector’s eyes. Yes, he did have vestibular syndrome, but a very mild case. No, we need not put him down, but he may well recover.

Well, it’s been a year now. Hector is going on 15. He is very arthritic, very slow, and doesn’t manage to cover nearly the ground that Max does on our runs. He is still as deaf as can be. But he barks when I open the kennel door. He wags his tail so energetically that it sometimes knocks him over. I can’t stop him from stumbling along as quickly as he can to greet the delivery drivers.

But Hector too is death-defying, and draws ample Alleluias from my heart.

I wish all human beings to have animal companions that wag and lick and bring tears of joy. I wish all human beings to have other human beings in their lives—dear ones to whom they can turn right now for their own death-defying Alleluia Easter.