The Kangaroo Who Saved His Human
Devon, 2020.
On an isolated farm nestled between oaks and rolling hills, lived Thomas Whitmore, a retired farmer of 71 who preferred the quiet company of animals to the clamour of cities. His wife had passed a decade earlier, and since then, his world had shrunk to his cottage, his garden, and an orphaned kangaroo hed rescued when it was no bigger than a milk bottle.
He called him Skip.
Hes not a pet, Thomas would say. Hes a life companion.
Skip grew fast. He bounded freely across the fields but always slept near the porch. When Thomas listened to the wireless, Skip would lie beside him. When Thomas dug the earth or mended the fence, the kangaroo shadowed him like a silent guardian.
One morning, as Thomas worked in the shed, he tripped on a loose plank. He fell hard. Too hard. The blow to his back left him motionless. His old Nokia was in the house, and no one would come by for two days.
Skip he whispered through gritted teeth. Help me, lad.
The kangaroo nosed his face. Thomas gripped his paw weakly and pointed toward the cottage.
Go. Fetch help go.
It seemed absurd. How could a kangaroo understand such a thing?
But Skip left. He bounded toward the house. Thomas thought hed simply run off.
Until, fifteen minutes later, he heard a familiar voice.
Mr. Whitmore! Are you all right?
It was Eleanor, the young vet who sometimes checked on the wildlife Thomas cared for. Skip had raced to the lane where her van was parked and begun thumping the ground, making strange noises, staring at her, darting back and forth. He persisted until she followed.
Id never seen him act like that, she said later. It was as if he were shouting without a voice.
Thomas was taken to hospital. He had three broken ribs and a hip injury. If Skip hadnt fetched help, he might have lain there for over a dayalone, without water.
The story made the local papers. The Hero Kangaroo, they called him. Skip even appeared on the telly, a red bandana tied round his neck.
Thomas recovered. But his gaze was forever changed.
I thought Id saved him, he said, voice unsteady. But he taught me that love, when its real, needs no words. Just brave leaps.
Now, at the gate of his farm, a hand-painted sign reads:
Here lives a man and the kangaroo who wouldnt let him die alone.
And if you pass by quietly at dusk, you might see Skip sprawled on the porch, eyes half-closed, keeping watch over the old man who gave him a second chance and who, unknowingly, had it returned.
