He added ” Recently on my solo canoe trip across Canada, I found this dog stuck under a log on the side of the river. The 14 year old Great Pyrenees was stuck for days and could no longer use her back legs. I’m CANOEING across CANADA! I’ve never canoed in my life and I’m about to take on the challenge of canoeing from the Rocky Mountains to Montreal. It has been one of the most intense, eye opening and character building moments of my life!”
Right Place, Right Time”
There was a dog.
At first, he didn’t even look real. Lying still in the mud, silent and soaked, he looked more like a discarded pile of fur than a living creature. The man paddling by in his canoe spotted him by chance—just a glimpse through the trees—but something about the way the dog lay there pulled at him.
He beached the canoe, stepped into the muck, and approached slowly.
“Hey there, buddy,” he called softly. “You okay?”
The dog didn’t move.
He knelt beside him. “Puppy? You stuck?”
Still nothing. Only the sound of shallow breathing. The dog was trembling, his eyes wide, his coat caked in mud. No tracks. No people. No sound but the occasional, breathy whimper.
“You’ve been crying, haven’t you?” the man murmured, heart sinking.
He looked closer—there was a heavy log resting near the dog’s back end. Gently, he shifted it off, his hands covered in dirt and wet moss.
“There. That’s not on you anymore. Can you move? Come on, can you try?”
The dog’s back legs twitched but didn’t obey.
“You’ve been here a long time, haven’t you?” he whispered. “Are you in pain?”
Slowly, gently, he coaxed the dog forward. One paw at a time, the dog inched toward him, dragging himself weakly. It was enough. With patience and steady words, the man helped him to the canoe.
“You’ve probably never been on a canoe before,” he said with a small smile. “But it’s the only way out of here.”
The dog lay quietly as the canoe rocked. Mud clung to his fur, and he stank of algae and rot. But he trusted this stranger. They drifted together, silently.
“My hope,” the man said, “is that you belong to the house down here.” He pointed to a small home by the water, nestled near a wooden dock. “And if not… well, we’ll make some calls.”
As he approached the dock, the dog stirred. The man lifted him carefully and set him down.
“You ready?” he asked. “Come on. Up.”
The dog obeyed. Weakly. Slowly. But he obeyed.
The man knocked.
A voice from inside.
“Hello?”
An older couple stepped out—Tom and Janine.
“I’m just paddling across Canada,” the man explained. “I found this dog stuck in the mud. Been there a long time. Covered in muck. I pulled him out, brought him here by canoe. Is he yours?”
Their eyes widened.
“Yes,” Janine breathed. “That’s Ivy. She’s been missing for two days.”
Tom added, “She’s 14. Her back legs haven’t worked well for a while. We’ve searched everywhere. We didn’t think to look there.”
“She was down the shoreline, maybe 200 meters. No access. No path. She must’ve slipped and gotten stuck.”
They knelt beside Ivy, tears in their eyes. “Oh, girl. What were you doing out there?” Janine whispered, stroking her head. “You silly old dog.”
The man fetched a bowl of water and helped them rinse Ivy off. They bathed her gently with warm water. She barely moved but blinked slowly, gratefully.
“You saved her,” Tom said quietly.
They invited him in for lunch. Then dinner. Then, as dusk fell, they offered him a bed for the night.
“Canadians,” the man smiled to himself later. “Just… awesome.”
He stayed the night at Tom and Janine’s, sharing stories over hot tea and a home-cooked meal. By morning, Ivy had managed to shuffle to her favorite spot—under the old farm truck.
“Ivy seems better,” the man said as he packed up. “Still stiff, but she made it outside.”
“She needs a good grooming,” Janine laughed. “Our son’s coming by later—he works with horses. He’ll get all the knots out of her coat.”
The man crouched by Ivy one last time. She looked up, eyes calmer now, her body still but no longer trembling.
“You’re feeling better,” he said gently. “Aren’t you, girl?”
He turned to Tom and Janine. “Thanks for everything. The dinner. The bed. The kindness.”
“No,” Tom said, shaking his hand, “thank you. You brought Ivy home.”
The man nodded, quietly moved. “Guess I was in the right place at the right time.”
And with that, he stepped back into his canoe, pushed off from the dock, and paddled away.
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