“It doesn’t know what you are, Pepper,” I said. “Settle down. But yes! This is very exciting!”

I pulled out my phone. One bar. I dialed 911, but the call dropped before it connected. I tried again. Same result. My one bar went away, and the dreaded words No Service appeared.

I texted Noah, Mickey, Mom and Juliet—in a nutshell, every capable person I knew. Dolphin stuck in tidal river by my house, please call someone, I have no service.

My phone told me the message was not delivered. “Shit!” I said.

I went closer to the dolphin—it may have been dying. Sometimes they stranded themselves, right? She (I thought it was a girl for some reason) struggled a little more and made a squeaking sound, and the noise hit me right in the heart.

“Okay. Hang on, honey. Help is on the way. I’ll be right back.”

I went back to the bush, untied my dog, had to practically drag her back to the house and shoved her inside. “Sorry, baby, you’re not going to be much help here.” I checked my phone—still no service, which had happened a few times since I moved here. That was okay. I’d get in my car and drive to Mom’s or Noah’s—

Right. My car was blocked by the tree branch.

I took a deep breath and thought. Google would be real handy right about now, but I had no power, and therefore no Wi-Fi.

Looked like I was about to become a dolphin rescuer. I grabbed a bucket, so I could pour water on her (because maybe she needed that?), and a shovel. I could dig the muck and maybe make a trench for her, and then as the tide came back in, maybe she could swim? Or I could carry her to deeper water, maybe? Oh, yes, a tarp. I could get her on it and drag her to deeper water.

“You were right, Mom,” I said aloud. “I should’ve gone to college for something more practical. Marine biology, in this case.”

Well, there was a little dolphin out there and she’d squeaked at me, and I wasn’t going to leave her alone to die. I grabbed my New York Yankees cap to keep the rain off my face and set off with my makeshift dolphin rescue kit.