What does SOS mean?

If you’re asking yourself, “What’s SOS?” you’re not alone. It doesn’t really stand for anything. It’s a distress signal. Ships at sea. Wrecked spaceships lost on far-off planets. Strange audible patterns from aliens in distant galaxies. We’ve all seen some form of an SOS call in the movies. 

When I think of SOS, images of humans who need help, on the edge of death flash in my mind. They’re stranded, alone, and afraid—reaching into the ether for anyone who will answer their call. 

In this book, a man’s best friend answers.

There’s a reason the metaphor “A dog is a man’s best friend” resonates so deeply with us. It’s intertwined with what we want in our friends: someone who’s loyal, sensitive to our emotional needs, forgiving, and, my personal favorite, loving unconditionally. Not even some of our human friends can hold a candle to that high standard.

Like innocent kids or our own children, they represent goodness. All the altruistic values we want in our stories can be distilled into the qualities our dogs embody. Why do you think people hate seeing dogs die in books? The act destroys that ideal.

For me, my dogs have been pivotal in my development as a human being. I’m convinced it’s because of the love they gave me without any conditions or expectations. It’s like a mother’s love. They don’t expect anything in return. Our souls need that in our lives, and it was vital during two periods of my life.

My wife and I rescued a German Shepherd when I was stationed at Fort Riley while serving in the Army. Jess was our first dog. She was a barker, but I was fine with that. When I deployed overseas to Afghanistan and Iraq, I knew Jess would protect my family. She slept at the foot of my children’s beds at night and barked at strangers who knocked on our door or came within arm’s distance of our yard. Jess provided me a sense of safety and calm so I could focus on what I had to do—patrol the streets of Iraq and the villages of Afghanistan with a sharp mind so I could make it home alive. In that sense, Jess saved my life.

Sadly, she passed away from stomach cancer near the end of my military service. We have her ashes resting in our living room, still protecting us.

We have a golden retriever named Maggie and a German Shepherd named Macy now. Although, this story is about Maggie, maybe I’ll include Macy in one at some point. Unlike Jess, Maggie isn’t a protector, she’s more of a lover. She craves attention. Maggie begs for pets every morning, propping her front paws on the front edge of the couch with her favorite toy in her mouth, waiting for me to come downstairs. She whines with giddy anticipation until I give her hugs and kisses. The fact Maggie needs my loving embrace to start her day always warms my heart. She wants to be close, she’s a cuddler. I’m not entirely sure if it’s the Golden Retriever breed or just her personality, but she exudes love all day, every day.

Like Jess, Maggie came into our lives at the right time. I was transitioning out of the Army after twenty years of service. I was on multiple antidepressants and anxiety medications due to PTSD and the stress of transition. I haven’t told many people this, but I spent time in the psych ward of the Veterans hospital because of my mental health. Don’t worry—I’m doing great now. But my family and Maggie have been the light pulling me back from the void. She is an overflowing well of love that never runs dry that’s helped me heal my wounds of war. I’m not sure what I would do without her. In that sense, Maggie also saved my life.

With that said, Maggie is a central part of this story. She is the rock for my main character. She pulls him from the void as well.

In case you’re wondering: No, Maggie doesn’t die.

Thanks for reading. Enjoy!