**Diary Entry – 12th June**
The morning started quietly enough. I turned the ignition, adjusted the mirrors, and glanced at my golden beauty in the passenger seat. Bella always loved car rides—sitting calmly, watching the world through the window, sometimes resting her head on my lap. Well-behaved, clever, never any trouble.
“Right then, Bella, off we go?” I smiled as the engine hummed to life.
She wagged her tail, but instead of turning to the window, she fixed her gaze on me.
After a few minutes, her stare grew intense. She sat there, head slightly tilted, eyes locked onto mine as if trying to speak.
“What’s got into you?” I chuckled. “Did I forget the indicator or something?”
She barked in response—not a quick warning, but loud and insistent, like an argument.
“Quiet, Bella,” I said, keeping one eye on the road. “What’s all this about?”
But she didn’t stop. The barking grew sharper, louder, grating on my nerves. Normally, she’d stay silent in the car—today, she was wound up tight.
“Hungry, are you? Or just tired?” I tried.
Bella ignored me. She leaned forward slightly, still staring, and there was something in her eyes that set my nerves on edge.
“Honestly, you’re starting to spook me…” I kept one hand on the wheel and reached over to rub her muzzle.
Then I noticed. Her eyes weren’t just on me—they flicked toward something else. Something terrifying. I slammed on the brakes and saw it…
I carefully returned my hand to the wheel, but the unease didn’t leave. Bella still sat rigid, unblinking, her gaze darting between me and the floor near the pedals.
“What, is there something?” I glanced down, though I couldn’t see much from my seat.
She barked again, sharp and urgent, then looked ahead as if urging me to act. I’d never seen her so determined.
“Alright, alright,” I muttered, pulling onto the shoulder.
After stopping, I popped the bonnet—nothing seemed amiss at first glance. Then I crouched and peered underneath. A slow, murky drip darkened the tarmac beneath the front wheel.
“Brake fluid,” I exhaled.
I touched the droplet—the smell confirmed it. One of the hoses had split, leaking fluid onto the road. The thought hit me: if I’d kept driving, especially on the motorway, the brakes could’ve failed entirely.
I looked up at Bella. She sat alert, watching me from the passenger seat, muzzle poking out slightly.
“You’re my guardian angel today, girl,” I said, scratching behind her ears.
Only then did it sink in—that odd barking, that unwavering stare. It wasn’t a whim. She was saving our lives.
**Lesson learnt:** Trust your dog. They notice things we don’t—sometimes just in time.
