But Mila—she was still restless. Sniffing Arvin’s chest, his hands…
And suddenly she barked loudly, mixed with a cry.
Arvin slowly sat down on the sofa. He squeezed his chest. “Love… I think… I can’t breathe…”
“Arvin?! Love!”
And that was when I understood.
Mila wasn’t protecting me from Arvin. She was protecting me for Arvin.
She must have smelled the chemicals of an approaching heart attack.
I immediately called the ambulance. Mila stayed glued to Arvin, putting her head on his chest, urging him to lie down. She didn’t growl anymore—she was crying.
The paramedics arrived. Mila was right—it was an early myocardial event. If we had been late, it would have been dangerous.
While Arvin was in the hospital, he held my hand. “Love… Mila… she saved me.”
Tears streamed down my face. Mila was on the floor, watching us.
When we returned home, the aura in the house was different. Every time Arvin touched me, Mila still looked at him—but now, her tail wagged happily.
Arvin approached her. “Thank you, Mila… You saved our family.”
He touched Mila’s head, and for the first time—she allowed it.
And as I rested my hand on my stomach, Mila was there, still close, but no longer worried. Quiet. Peaceful.
Because she knew we were safe—me, the baby, and Arvin.
And from then on, I proved:
Mila wasn’t just a dog. She was the first to sense the danger—and the first to save a life.
An angel with a tail and fur.