During the peak of Venezuela’s earthquake relief efforts, as rescue teams combed through shattered buildings for signs of life, Tsunami—a worker—was meant to be enjoying a rare moment of rest in the shade.
Yet even from afar, onlookers stopped to take pictures and shout his name.
Tsunami, a black‑and‑white border collie with one blue eye and one brown, swiftly emerged as one of the most recognizable symbols of Venezuela’s earthquake response.
When the powerful quakes struck on June 24, Tsunami and his handler, Jorge Beens, fled their damaged apartment into a street where residents stared at cracked walls and searched for missing loved ones.
Unsure where they would spend the night, instinct took over for Beens and his loyal canine partner: it was time to get to work.
Tsunami is among Venezuela’s scarce trained search‑and‑rescue dogs. Within minutes, the pair reached a nearby building’s rubble, scanning for any sign of life, Beens notes.
To date, Tsunami has helped locate at least 26 survivors, becoming a beacon of hope for Venezuelans after the 7.2‑ and 7.5‑magnitude quakes. Nearly 4,500 people have been confirmed dead in the disaster.
Rhonny Zamora/Special to The Christian Science Monitor
Working alongside his rescue team, the border collie Tsunami combs through rubble in La Guaira, Venezuela, on July 6 2026. To date, he has helped locate 26 survivors in the wake of the nation’s twin earthquakes.
“He began locating survivors within 40 minutes of the quake,” says Mr. Beens, who leads a disaster‑response organization, referring to his rescue partner.
Nine years prior, Beens adopted Tsunami from an abusive situation in Caracas. He rescued the dog from a shelter and immediately recognized the qualities of an effective rescue canine—confidence, playfulness, and a strong desire to please. Since then, Tsunami has contributed to saving more than 350 lives, assisting in landslides, building collapses, gas explosions, floods, and the 2023 earthquake in Turkey and Syria.
Tsunami earned his name on his first day with Beens after toppling a large water basin and flooding the floor; the handler saw the mess and the name stuck.
“I think it was love at first sight,” Beens says.
Silence – and communication
For Tsunami, search‑and‑rescue feels like a game, even when lives hang in the balance.
That’s how Beens trained him. During practice, a person hides among debris with Tsunami’s favorite toy; the dog locates the person, barks, and is rewarded with the toy.
When Beens brought him to a collapsed building in Caracas’s San Bernardino neighborhood last month, Tsunami knew exactly what to do.
His first instruction was to remain silent.
Rhonny Zamora/Special to The Christian Science Monitor
Tsunami, a search‑and‑rescue dog, is taken for a walk after waiting in a vehicle for instructions during the earthquake response in La Guaira, Venezuela, on July 6 2026.
Rescuers called into the rubble, listening for a voice, a knock, or any sign of life. Tsunami then moved forward, threading through broken concrete and dust. When he sensed the cues he’d been trained to detect—human breath, skin, hair, or other scents escaping the debris—he halted and barked.
To his human teammates, that signal meant “dig here.”
For Tsunami, it brings joy, but there’s no time to celebrate.
“We keep working. We don’t have time to celebrate,” Beens says.
For the past fifteen years, Beens has led a canine disaster‑response team in Caracas. He established the organization after gaining disaster‑management experience abroad in Mexico, Colombia, and Brazil.
His fascination with rescue dogs, however, began much earlier. As a child, he recalls watching a neighbor who served in a police canine unit.
“The man and his dog moved as a team,” he says. “I was struck by the bond.”
Later, while studying in La Guaira, Beens volunteered during the deadly 1999 mudslides—one of Venezuela’s worst natural disasters—where he observed Mexican canine teams in action.
“The image stayed with me.”
“A marriage”
Tsunami frequently works at night, when disaster zones grow quiet and rescuers can more easily hear faint sounds emanating from beneath the rubble.
For Beens, Tsunami is a lifelong companion. The dog lives with him, accompanies him to work, and trains with him at least three times weekly. They train under various conditions—rain, open fields, and debris piles.
Courtesy of Donato Spinelli
Even as a puppy in November 2017, Tsunami displayed the distinctive blue and brown eyes that would later make him instantly recognizable as one of Venezuela’s premier search‑and‑rescue dogs.
“This is a marriage,” Beens says, noting that a strong bond is essential for an effective canine rescue team. He keeps one eye on the dog while speaking, and Tsunami appears to enjoy the attention, leaning into the pats and scratches.
A handler must interpret the dog’s movements, shifts in behavior, and signals, Beens says. The dog must trust the handler enough to navigate unstable terrain, noise, dust, rain, and crowds. Not every dog is suited for this work; they need composure, focus, and a strong instinct to connect. In Tsunami, Beens recognized those traits early on.
“He wanted to please me,” he says. “To share, to make me happy.”
In recent days, Tsunami has become a bright spot amid Venezuela’s painful national ordeal. Residents share photos of him and create artwork inspired by his presence.
One commenter on a social media post of a mural depicting Tsunami—his long tongue lolling to the side and Venezuelan flags prominently displayed on his orange emergency vest—riffed on his name and the brief tsunami warning issued for the Venezuelan coast in June, writing: “There was a tsunami alert, but it was the warning of a dog who would come to save many lives, with a sea of volunteers from Venezuela and beyond behind him.”
Now that the opportunity to locate survivors in Venezuela has passed, Tsunami will step back from active rescue work—but his service is far from over.
Tsunami will visit schools and communities nationwide, supported by Perros Extremos, a dog‑training organization that has rallied behind the border collie throughout this emergency.
Tsunami’s lifesaving efforts should not be reduced to admiration for a single dog, says Donato Spinelli, co‑director of Perros Extremos. He believes the international attention the animal has attracted could serve as a lesson in disaster preparedness.
“Dogs can make a difference when every minute matters,” Spinelli says.
And hopefully, Beens says, the future will hold many more Tsunamis, ready to assist.
