I can mark something new off my list: scaling a jungle cliff to save frantic puppies from certain death.

I was lazily lounging on the bed with my son, listening to the rain and reading a book, when my husband stepped in and mentioned casually that the two bigger puppies had wandered off and gotten stuck somewhere.

I jumped up to a seated position,”What? They can’t get back?” He put some food in his mouth, chewed for a good ten seconds, and replied, “It’s straight up jungle over there past the field. They followed their mom over and got lost.” He shuffled back to his office while I frantically threw on my shoes–thank goodness for rubber soles with tread!

After sprinting around the cliff border that curves around our property–maybe sprinting isn’t the right word actually–tumbling and tripping along the border, I could hear their sharp cries of desperation. It sounded like they weren’t just lost–these puppies were terrified.

I called Sacha, the mom, and basically yelled at her to lead the way. She must know English, because she darted through the long grass, revealing a distinct trail to the tree line. I ducked through a hole of trees to find a huge garden of lined coffee plants.

She flew under their branches and I ducked after her, pushing leaves out of my way left and right. Then the ground came to a halt. A few feet to my left, I saw the open sky drop a solid two hundred feet at least below. I paused as I realized how close I was to the edge and instinctively grabbed a skinny tree trunk to my right.

Sacha circled my legs and dove down into the brush below. She’s a brave one. Her frightened puppies on a cliff were the only thing on her mind. I gingerly lowered to the ground and braced my foot against a thicker trunk a few feet down. At this point, I was on a comfortable incline….like a slide for toddlers. This was an area where people had chucked their yard garbage. Wet leaves and trimmed branches wove together with thorny vines.

I could only see a few feet below me with any clarity. By carefully pushing the violent prickers aside, I could see the winding path Sacha had taken towards the tiny trouble makers. Her pup from a past litter, Bianca, had followed along in the excitement, and was sliding down the trail, letting out whimpers of fear with each misstep.

I sat there and made a decision. I could either back track and hope that they could claw their way up, or I could risk serious injury and rescue them. Their cries were so deafening, I could barely hear my own shouts to them. I knew they must be in real danger. I knew I could get hurt. And, I knew I could only make one decision.

I gripped that slim tree trunk in my hand, quickly determined it was strong enough to bear my weight, should I slip, and lowered myself down along the wall of leaves and mud. Placing my feet on sinking ground required me to mostly hang by my arms. At one time in my life, I could do eight pull ups; I don’t think I could do more than one now.

The rush of adrenaline in my veins must have given me the extra boost I needed as I swung down in slow Tarzan-like motion. All the while, I was singing to myself, “You can do this–woman versus wild–follow Bear’s instructions–you won’t let go of that branch…” Just when the fear was slapping me across the face, I saw a glimpse of our black and white puppy, Cinco. He was so muddy, he appeared to be just black. His brother fretfully danced next to him.

They were on a ledge. Not a flat, trusty ledge. This one was like the top of a dome, connected to a wall of hard earth. They must have slid down the serious incline, and dug against the ground to keep them where they were. They were throwing themselves against the wall, but were too small to leap up the three or so feet to the leafy and prickly hill above.

Sacha’s older pup, Bianca, suddenly took precedence. She was on the edge of our cliff, webbed with vines, and one slip from a deathly fall. I turned around, slid on a small path of mud–a wad of thick vines in one hand. I held my breath and swooped my other hand beyond my feet and snatched her up by the neck.

With Bianca safely above me, I secured myself on four points and tilted my head to survey the situation. Sacha was above my head, nervously chomping on grass. The puppies were still about a meter past my feet. I thought there might be enough room on the domed-ledge to hop down. I was keenly afraid that by placing my foot there, the puppies might try to make room and tumble further down and out of sight. There was no way I could get to them if this happened.

I was at a loss of strong vines and rooted plants at this point. “This is really dangerous, you’re a mom,” I warned myself. I calmed my nerves by deciding that if I did fall, I could catch hold of something on the way down. Besides, the thickest of the thin green vines available to me could probably do the job.

I pulled at a tiny coffee plant, that must owe it’s place of residence to the rivers in the rainy season, or the winds of the summer. It loosened and began to let go of the earth with one light tug. “Ok, so it’s down to this one vine,” I determined while I twisted my mouth and took a good bite on my lower lip.

Feeling the air in those seconds between letting go of your hold on the earth and that beautiful touch of meeting it again is surely exhilarating–and surely something I do not wish to repeat. With the momentum of the jump, I let my free hand grab the dampened fluff of Cinco. I tossed him up to his mama and shot my arm down to catch lean Osito as he vigorously fought to scale my leg.

Then, I breathed.

Without letting my mind realize I might be stuck, I launched myself up into the mess above me, grabbing at vines and roots with the hunger for safety. With me body pressed against the muddy leaves, I looked into the vast air between me and the other side of the cliff. The reward of, “You are powerful” echoed through my head.

I didn’t let my thoughts brag too long, because I had to get these delirious puppies completely out of harm’s way, lest they should scamper their way straight back down. I squeeze the two little ones and their older sister into the crook of my arm–not taking any complaints–and pulled myself up the rest of the hill, with Sacha triumphantly leading the way.

My husband was leaning on the fence at home, calling out to me, half worriedly. He knows I’m apt to do something crazy when it comes to animals. Trying to hide his relief, he muttered, “Dumb dogs,” and then eagerly listened to my breathless version of this exotic experience.

Shortly thereafter, I had an almost equally entertaining half hour. Cross showering with four filthy dogs and an overly-excited three year old off the list as well. It took a good while to settle my heart back to a normal pace.

It took even longer to remove the traces of that wrestle with the jungle from my wash room. However, I have my exhausted, happy mongrels sleeping on the porch, and a reason for believing in my strength, should anything threaten the security of my loved ones in the future.

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Andrew Makarik

to@welovecostarica.com

Andrew Makarik is the main editor of WeLoveCostaRica, a fan of this sunny country. He is also a loving husband and a has a lovely daughter. By being a devoted family man and the biggest Costa Rica fan, he wants to make more people feel at home there. WeLoveCostaRica unites people and helps them find new home or a new travel destination. This website is a friendly community where everyone can find not only information, but also new friends and travel pals. Andrew is also passionate about IT and programming, so he himself maintains a friendly atmosphere in this cozy environment of WeLoveCostaRica.com.