When I lost my wife, Jo, to cancer eight years ago, I knew it was time for a fresh start, so I packed up my London home and moved to Poole on the Dorset coast. I longed for a companion, so I welcomed a labrador puppy into my life, naming him Beau in a nod to the time Jo and I had spent living in France.
A gun dog from Derbyshire with a sleek black coat and deep brown eyes, Beau was an adorable and mischievous puppy who kept me on my toes right from the start. When he was six months old, he rummaged in a fisherman’s bucket and swallowed a fishing line and hook. Thankfully, it came out the other end, narrowly avoiding surgery.
Beau fits perfectly into my outdoor lifestyle. He comes sailing and paddleboarding with me and sits patiently on the shore when I go for my daily sea swims, running around excitedly when I emerge from the water, spraying sand everywhere. It was after one of these sea swims that Beau truly left his mark on my heart.
It was a wintry day in 2024, between Christmas and new year, and Beau and I had wandered to the beach. After a short swim in very cold water, I felt fit and strong – after all, I was an active 70-year-old – so I sprinted along the sand, with Beau happily running alongside me.
Before I reached my towel, everything went black. I’d suffered a cardiac arrest – my heart had stopped dead. Seeing me slumped over a rock, Beau sprang into action. He jumped up and down on my body and on the sand, barked and ran around. Poor Beau. He must have sensed that there was life left in me and he wasn’t ready to give up.
Beau’s frantic activity caught the attention of a passerby, Claire Dashwood, who was walking with her partner about 100 metres away. Claire, a healthcare worker, raced over and found my unconscious body, blue and freezing cold.
She started CPR while Beau licked her face, encouraging her to keep going. Soon after, two doctors who were out walking their dog ran over and the three of them kept my blood pumping until the paramedics arrived. I was taken to Bournemouth hospital, where a defibrillator was implanted near my heart. When Beau and I were reunited a week later, he was beside himself, barking, jumping about and kissing my face, sending tears trickling down my cheeks.
The tears return whenever I remember that day and I’ll be for ever grateful to the strangers – now my friends – who came to my rescue and to my faithful pet for sounding the alarm.
To show my loyalty to Beau, I now wear a transfer tattoo of a dog paw over the defibrillator in my chest. After everything we’ve been through, Beau will always be close to my heart.
As told to Katherine Baldwin