At seven o’clock in the morning, I woke up from the incessant barking of my dog, trying to wake me up by any means, and I saw something frightening.
I was completely jolted awake by its relentless barking, with sounds cutting through the peaceful morning air. I had never seen my dog act like this before—it was usually very well-behaved and never made a fuss in the morning. Confusion filled me, but I thought it might be hungry or simply wanted a walk.
However, when I tried to go back to sleep, that didn’t happen. My dog didn’t leave. On the contrary, it began stamping its paws persistently, licking my face, and whining softly as if it were trying to grab my attention desperately. I still couldn’t understand why it was waking me up so relentlessly, but when I ignored it, it suddenly barked loudly right next to my ear, then jumped on the bed and started barking sharply, as if it were in some kind of deep distress.
It was only then that I opened my eyes again and noticed something strange. An unsettling feeling, unexplainable and growing, swept over me.
When I opened my eyes, I smelled something odd, sharp. At first, I couldn’t tell what it was, but in just a few seconds, I realized clearly—it was the smell of something burning. And it was getting stronger, second by second. My heart began to race faster, the beats pounding in my chest. A cold and fearful sensation took over. I quickly sat up, my heart thudding in my throat, and I rushed out of bed, not thinking any further. My bare feet hit the cold floor, and I sprinted into the hallway, hoping to figure out the source of the strange smoke.
As soon as I stepped into the hallway, I froze in place.
Thick, gray smoke was rising from the far end of the hall, already creeping into my room. In the living room, the fire was raging—devouring everything in its path, cracking and throwing sparks as it spread.
My dog was standing nearby, barking at the fire, then looking at me again as if urging me on: “Hurry up!”
I grabbed my phone, trembling as I dialed the fire department, and without wasting a second, I ran out of the apartment, phone in hand.
Only when we were outside, safe, and I was trying to catch my breath did it finally hit me: if it weren’t for my dog, I probably would have kept on sleeping, and I might not have woken up at all.
After everything settled down, I found out what had happened. It turned out that the night before, while I was ironing clothes, I had been so exhausted that I forgot to turn off the iron. It was left on top of the clothes, and that’s what caused the fire. I didn’t remember anything about it. But my dog—he smelled the smoke before I did and did everything he could to wake me up.
If it weren’t for him… I probably wouldn’t be telling this story now. The feeling of gratitude I have for him is indescribable because, without him, I have no idea what could’ve happened next.
