The Shaggy Guardian
Emma moved gingerly backwards, keeping her gaze tightly fixed on the enormous dog calmly planted smack in the centre of the pavement.
Good boy, good boy she murmured in a low, careful voice, as though any sudden move might bring disaster.
He was an imposing beastmassive, buried under a thick, wild tangle of fur, fur that matted in places into unruly clumps. His eyesdark, watchfulnever left her, while his ears twitched, alert at every passing sound. Fear twisted inside Emma, her knees threatening to give way. Still, she fought to keep her composure. Dogs, even pint-sized ones tottering by in handbags, had always unsettled her. The terror went back years, all the way to childhood.
She was just four when her parents brought her down to her grans cottage in the countryside. Next door lived a man who bred dogsproper ones. Emmas curiosityboundless, recklesshad gotten her into trouble before, and this was no different. A puppy, impossibly cute, had slipped into their garden, and while the grown-ups were busy, Emma scooped it into her arms, heading for the house. Shed taken all of three steps before her path was blocked by a hulking dogthe mother, evidently. The dog loomed over Emma, lips pulled back in a silent snarl. She didnt attack, just let out a low, rumbling growl, but it was more than enough. Helplessness. Terror. That icy dread rooted Emma to the spot, tattooed in her mind forever.
The years marched on, but the fear of dogs stuck with her. And here she was now, confronted with a veritable giant, who seemed to have no intention of budging from her path. Emma decided shed much rather not tempt fate: better to take the long route than to risk it. She peeled away, walking as calmly as she could, but couldnt stop herself from glancing back every few seconds. The dog followed. Not closehe kept a respectful distancebut he didnt lose sight of her.
Clever thing, Emma muttered, sneaking another wary look at her unexpected escort. Can see Im frightened, maybe. But whys he following me? Wheres his owner? The questions chattered in her mind, stubbornly unanswered.
At last she spied her block of flats and nearly broke into a run, climbing the steps two at a time. She pressed her fob to the front door and slipped inside, then turned for one last look. The dog was still there, sitting just outside the building. He hadnt moved to follow, only watched her through the glass as the door shut, that steady gaze as calm as ever.
Inside, Emma set her bag on the shelf, slipped off her shoes and lingered in the silent hallway, listening for anything strange. Only the citys distant hum reached her through the sealed windows. She was desperate to check the dog had gone, so hurried to her bedroom window.
Below, the familiar, shaggy figure remained. As if sensing her gaze, he lifted his head, swished his great tail, and with unhurried dignity, padded off down the street. Emma exhaled, relief flooding her. Tonight at least, her silent sentry had finally left.
Afterwards, it became a ritual. Every evening when Emma finished at the advertising agency and went home, the dog would appear out of nowhere and quietly follow her to the door. At first he kept a healthy ten metres between themno sign of aggression, no effort to come closer. Day by day, though, that distance shrank. First five metres, then three, and onceone evening when the city twinkled in dusky pinkhe trailed alongside, hanging just a step behind.
Emma was still uneasy, but the paralyzing panic lessened with time. Where once the dogs every twitch made her clench her fists in fear, she now only shot him the occasional wary glance. Her body remembered that childhood terror, but her mind was slowly convinced: this dog showed no threat, no signs of menace at all. He simply walked with her, calmly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Eventually she noticed details shed missed before. His measured gait, unrushed and deliberate. The ears, once bristling, were now lax. And his eyesthose deep, intelligent eyeslooked more curious than dangerous.
One mild evening as autumn crept in, Emma found herself almost comforted by his presence. She decided to give him a name. She pondered brieflyhe was large, dignified, and there was something otherworldly in his silent company.
Hector, she said aloud. It felt right.
To her surprise, the dog responded instantly. Next time she said, Hector! he turned his head at once, as if hed always been called that. Emma had to smile at how effortless it felt.
Her job kept her in a cyclone of activity. Mornings were staff meetings, then client calls, creative brainstorms, frantic tweaks to ad mock-ups. By evening she was rung dry and could think only of slipping off her shoes, brewing a cup of tea, and sinking before her laptop. But now the walk home meant something else, transformed by Hectors loyal shadow. He never barked or begged for attentionhe simply accompanied her, quietly, surely, as if he knew precisely what she needed: someone there, no more, no less.
Sometimes Emma would slow so Hector could catch up. Sometimes, emboldened, shed even stop to look at him directly. In return, hed meet her gazesteady, not a hint of threat. If trust was built brick by brick, every glance from Hector laid another. Emma found her old dread gradually melting away, replaced by something gentler. Still cautious, but not afraid.
One traffic-choked evening, Emma stayed late fixing a last-minute pitch for a major client, wading through emails and revisions. When she finally left, the office clocks were chiming eight. She hurried along her usual route, glancing at her phone, barely seeing the swaying trees or breathing in the crisply cool air. Something was off.
Hector wasnt there. Usually, he would appear around the last corner, emerging from the little park as if hed been waiting just for her. Without him, the road felt sharp and cold, the silence more exposed. She grew anxious. Had something happened to him? Had his owner reclaimed him, or had he simply tired of waiting for her?
She scolded herself for these worries but couldnt shake them. Still, she quickened her pace, hoping hed dart round the next bend or pop out from the shadows.
Dusk thickened fast. The streetlights still off, trees cast long, tangled shadows across the pavement. Emma hated feeling so conspicuous. The half-dark made every stray rustle sinister and every strangers outline menacing. She thought of Hector, suddenly aware of how his mere presence had reassured her, even when he did nothing but walk near.
She was nearly at the traffic lights, heart in her throat, when a mocking masculine voice sliced through the gloom.
All right, love. Fancy a chat?
Emmas pulse thudded. She sped up, fighting to keep the panic out of her gait, but her hands pressed into fists.
Hey, whats the rush? The voice was closer now. She heard his heavy steps behind her, his breath.
She tried to break into a run, but a strong hand clamped down on her forearm, the grip tight, bruising.
I said, Im talking to you, he sneered, stepping into her space.
Emma twisted, trying to yank her arm free, but his fingers only dug in harder. Panic clawed at her throat. Still, she tried to hold steady.
Let me go or Ill scream! Her voice cracked, but she forced it out.
The grip didnt slacken.
Go on, then, he mocked. Ill soon quieten you.
Under the weak glow of a distant lamp, she glimpsed the glint of metala knife, blade raised in his hand. Regret suffocated her; if only shed left the office on time Now she was stranded, alone, on an empty, silent street.
Her thoughts raced, frantic. Make a break for it? But any sudden move, any wrong guess, he might strike. Reason with him? But the slurred words and wobbling gait told her he was drunk and in no state for reason. The fear pressed in, but she clung to reason, refusing to give up.
Thena thunderous bark split the darkness. The man whirled round, releasing Emma. An instant later he was sprawled on the pavement, Hector looming over him, hackles up, brimmed with fury.
Get off, you blasted mutt! the man screamed, thrashing uselessly as Hector fixed his jaws on his wrist.
The knife skittered out of his grasp, landing in a tangle of shrubs. Emma, still trembling, lashed out and kicked it further away, out of reach.
Let him go, Hector, but dont let him run, Emma called, her voice shaking but clear. Im calling the police!
Hector released his grip but stayed at the mans side, muscles tense, growl rumbling, lips peeled back in a bloodied snarl. When the man so much as twitched, Hector flashed his teeth again, immovable.
Minutes ticked by until blue lights flickered along the street. Policemen jumped out, restrained the attacker, handcuffed him, and bundled him away. Only then did Hector leave his post and pad over to Emma, who had slumped onto the curb, hugging her knees to her chest.
He sidled close, rested his head gently in her lap, and breathed a long, weary sigh. In that small action Emma felt all the warmth in the world. At last, she let her tears flowhot, silent, unstoppable. Her hands shook as she stroked Hectors rough fur, but she clung to him all the same.
Thank you, she whispered into his coat, tangled and wild as always. Thank you for being here.
Everything changed after that night. Emma couldnt imagine life without Hector. She brought him into her flat, and he quickly became her shadow. Every day he greeted her at the door, padded through the rooms, always nearby. He was no longer just company he was her protector, her steadfast guardian who never needed to ask whether she was all right.
Sometimes, a loud sound would still make her start. But never again did she feel truly alone. Someone had shown her, without question, that he would stand by her side.
***
The first few days under Emmas roof werent easy for Hector. He crept in tentatively, ears pressed flat, snout twitching at all the unfamiliar smellscleaner, carpet, foodblended together into something alarmingly new. He padded from room to room, sniffed every door and skirting board, and would sometimes freeze, listening intentlyto the footsteps upstairs, to hissing pipes in the walls. Emma didnt hurry him or try to force him onto the new dog bed shed bought. She just stayed nearby, speaking softly, giving him time.
Gradually, he found his safe spots: first by the front door, then by the big living room window, where he could watch the world go bythe postman, cars swishing past, children flickering in and out of view. It soothed him.
Emma made it her mission to make Hector comfortable. She purchased everything he might needa plush bed, a sturdy bowl, toys galore: a squeaky ball, a rope, a battered old teddy bear. At first, Hector approached them all with suspicion, but little by little, curiosity took over. A paw on the ball, a snuffle at the bone, a watchful eye on the bear rolling to a stop.
In time, he found his confidence. He loved lying at the window, long frame stretched out, waiting for Emma to come home. At the first hint of her steps on the landing, he perked up, moving to the door with a joyful wag.
Evenings, they walked in the nearby park. Emma strolled the footpath; Hector loped proudly beside her, every so often pausing to sniff a patch of grass or listen to a blackbird in the hedge. For Emma, these walks were magic. Her old fear of dogs dissolvedat least, where Hector was concerned. His presence was a comfort. He wasnt a pet, he was her unspoken guardian, her silent strength.
He never left her side. If she flopped onto the sofa, exhausted after work, he curled up beside her, chin in her lap. She felt a love building, unexpected and deep.
But one morning, as Emma dressed for work, she noticed something was off. Hector, usually bounding to greet her, barely rose from his bed and shuffled to his bowl, but didnt eat. Deep, tired eyes met hers, and he let his head fall to his paws.
A knot of worry twisted in Emmas stomach. She knelt beside him, hand on his brow.
Whats wrong, boy? she asked, voice soft with concern.
Hector only sighed, weary, as if lifting his head was too great a task. Emma wasted no time, phoning the vet immediately.
The vet came that very afternoon, checked Hectors temperature, listened to his heart, and gave his diagnosis.
Hes got a minor infection, likely from foraging on rubbish outside. Nothing serious, as long as you look after him.
What do I need to do? Emma pressed.
Feed him special dog food, said the vet, and give him these pills twice a day. Lots of water, and hell be right as rain in a week.
Emma followed every order: warm food in small helpings, pills wrapped in slivers of cheddar, and water always topped up. After supper or a dose of medicine, Hector would give her a slow, grateful lick and gaze up with those knowing eyes as if to say, Ill be all right, thanks to you.
He got stronger. His tail wagged, his interest returned, and soon enough, he was at the door to greet her; cheerful, hungry, healthy at last. Emmas smile came more easily, seeing him thrive. She knew this was Hectors home nowand shed do anything to keep him safe.
Soon, they settled into an easy, comforting routine. Emma got used to running a household with a four-legged companionmeals, walks, hours spent playing fetch. She learned which foods suited dogs and which ones were dangerous, delighting in preparing simple, wholesome meals for Hector. Schedules took shapemealtimes, strolls through the park, evenings stretched out on the sofa.
One weekend, she decided to try training sessionspart fun, part practical. She signed Hector up for obedience classes. To her delight, he proved an eager student: learning sit, down, come here with remarkable quickness. His trainer praised his focus and willingness to please. Emma glowed with pride, practising their routines at home until they became second nature.
On sunny weekends theyd linger in the park, Hector dashing after a ball, making tentative friends with the other dogs. Emma watched from a bench, heart light, as Hector leapt and cavorted, glancing back to make sure she was watching. When a new dog approached, they sniffed politely, then were off in playful chases, pouncing, tumbling, tail-wagging madly. Emma beamed, awash in a new sense of belonging, of peace.
But one evening, things shifted. Work left Emma weary and drained as she walked home under the rising moon, thinking only of tea and the comfort of home. Reaching her flat, she found a man waiting by her building.
He leaned against the wall and didnt move as she approached.
Evening, he said, giving an awkward smile. You must be Emma?
She stopped, wary. Yes. Why?
My names Oliver. Im Hectors owner.
The words struck her like a stone thrown in still water. For a moment, she just stared, stunned.
Youyoure his owner? she managed. But why was he living rough?
Oliver rubbed the back of his neck, clearly nervous.
Its a complicated story, he said finally. I used to travel for workmonths at a timeso I left Hector with a friend. Turns out he was too much for my mate to handle. Rather than return him, hewell, he let him wander. I only found out when I got back, by which time Hector was missing.
He paused, voice thick with remorse.
I searched everywhere, put up notices, asked around nothing. Then one day I saw you two together. He looked so content. Like hed found his home with you. I just needed to know he was safe.
Emma listened, a whirl of emotions turning inside her. She hated the thought of anyone leaving their animal behind. But looking at Oliver, she saw the weight of regret.
So do you want to take him back? she asked, her throat tight.
Oliver shook his head, his gaze gentle.
I thought I did. But Hectors happy here. Hes loved, cared for. It wouldnt be right to uproot him again. I just needed to know the truth.
Emma nodded, relief mingling with gratitude and the barest touch of confusion, but knew it was the best endingfor all of them.
Thank you. I promiseIll take good care of him, she said quietly.
Oliver smiled, nodded, and walked away into the gathering night. Emma turned to her door, listening for the familiar bark already ringing behind it, Hector waiting faithfully for her just inside.
