Oliver walked home from work. It was an ordinary winter eveningone of those when the world lay under a sheet of boredom. Passing the corner shop, he spotted a dog. A rough-looking mutt. Ginger, shaggy. Its eyes had the lost look of a child searching for home.
What are you doing here? Oliver grumbled, but he stopped in his tracks.
The dog lifted its head, gazed at him. It didnt beg, just stared.
Probably waiting for its owner, he thought, and moved on.
But the next eveningit was the same sight. And again, the night after. The dog seemed attached to that corner, as though it belonged to the cold pavement. Oliver noticed people coming and going, some tossing bits of bread, others a limp sausage.
Why are you sitting here? he asked one day, crouching beside the dog. Wheres your owner, eh?
This time, the dog shuffled forward, hesitantly, and rested its head against his leg.
Oliver froze. When had he last stroked anyone? Three years had passed since the divorce. The flat was empty. Work, telly, fridge, sleep.
There, you poor thing, he murmured, not knowing where the name Misty came from, yet it burst from his lips.
Next day, he brought sausages for her.
Within a week, he posted an ad online: Found dog. Searching for owner.
No one rang.
A month later, returning from a late shifthe was an engineer, sometimes on site all nightOliver saw a crowd outside the shop.
Whats happened? he asked his neighbour, Mrs. Brown.
That dog. Got hit by a car. The one thats been sitting there for ages.
His heart plummeted.
Where is she?
Took her to the vet surgery on Churchill Avenue. But you know what theyre likecharge a kings ransom for treatment Whod pay for a stray?
Oliver said nothing. He turned, broke into a run.
At the surgery, the vet shook his head.
Broken bones, internal bleeding. Itll cost hundreds, maybe more. And its not a sure thing shell make it.
Treat her, Oliver said, voice steady. Whatever it costsIll pay.
And when she was finally discharged, he took Misty home.
For the first time in three years, life filled his little flat.
Everything changed. Utterly.
Now Oliver woke not to the alarm, but to Misty gently nudging his hand with her wet nose, as if to say, Time to get up, mate. And he did, smiling.
Where mornings used to begin with coffee and the news, now they started with walks in the park.
Come on, girl, time to get some fresh air, hed sayand Misty would wag her wild tail in delight.
At the vets, he sorted every bit of paperwork. Passport, vaccines. Officially, she was now his dog. He photographed every documentjust in case.
Colleagues had begun to notice.
Oliver, you look ten years younger! What’s your secret, eh?
And truly, for the first time in years, he felt needed.
Misty proved herself cleveruncannily so. She understood in half a word, half a gesture. If he was late, shed greet him at the door with that look that seemed to ask, Where were you? I worried
In the evenings, theyd go for long walks, Oliver babbling to her about work, about life. It seemed silly, talking to a muttbut she listened, head cocked, sometimes letting out a soft whine in response.
You know, Mist, I used to think it was easier being alone. No one in the way, no one to answer to. Turns out” hed stroke her ears, “turns out, I was just too scared to love again.
Neighbours got used to them. Kindly Mrs. Brown from the next block always saved a bone.
Lovely dog, shed remark, You can tell shes cherished.
A month passed, another.
Oliver even considered starting an Instagram page for Mistyher ginger coat gleamed gold in the sunlight, she was a natural in front of the camera.
Then, something unexpected happened.
A routine walk. Misty sniffed at bushes, Oliver sat on a bench, scrolling his phone.
Molly! Molly!
Oliver looked up. Approaching them was a womanearly thirties, decked out in expensive sportswear, blonde locks styled and lacquered.
Misty tensed, pulling her ears back.
Sorry, Oliver said. Youve made a mistake. Shes my dog.
The woman stopped, hands on hips.
What do you mean, your dog? Thats my Molly! She went missing half a year ago!
Sorry?
Yes! She ran off near my block, I searched everywhere! And now youve stolen her!
Oliver felt the ground slip away.
Wait. How did you lose her? I found her by the shopshed been there a month, homeless!
Because she was lost! I adore her! My husband and I bought her speciallyshes an expensive crossbreed!
Crossbreed? Oliver looked at Misty. Shes a mutt.
Shes a mix! Cost a fortune!
Oliver stood. Misty pressed herself to his leg.
If this is your dogshow me proof.
What proof?
Vets passport, vaccine certs, anything.
The woman faltered.
At home… but thats not the point! I recognise her! Molly, come here! Now!
Misty wouldnt move.
Molly! I said come!
The dog pressed closer to Oliver.
See? he said quietly. She doesnt know you.
Shes sulking because I lost her! But shes mine! And I demand you give her back!
I have papers, Oliver replied calmly, Vet bills, passport, receipts for food, toys, you name it.
I dont care about your papers! This is theft!
Passers-by began to stare.
Shall we settle this properly? Oliver took out his phone. Lets call the police.
Call them! Ill prove shes mine! I have witnesses!
What witnesses?
Neighbours saw her run off!
Olivers heart raced as he called. What if the woman was telling the truth? What if Misty actually belonged to her?
But then, why had Misty stayed at the shop for weeks? Why didnt she find her way home? Why was she trembling now, hiding beside him?
Hello? Police? Ive got a situation here
The woman flashed a victorious smile.
Youll see. Justice will prevail. Give me my dog!
And Misty pressed even closer. Oliver realised, in that momenthe would fight for her. To the very end.
Because over those months, Misty had become more than a dog.
She was his family.
The constable arrived after half an hour. Sergeant Wilkinsa slow, solid man, familiar from housing matters.
Well, lets hear it, he said, flipping open his notebook.
The woman leapt in, agitated: Thats my dog! Molly! Paid a thousand pounds for her! Went missing six months ago, searched everywhere! That man stole her!
I didnt steal her, said Oliver calmly, I found her by the shop. Shed been homeless for a whole month.
She was only homeless because she was lost!
Wilkins eyed Misty, still glued to Olivers side.
Any documents?
I have them, Oliver handed over a folderhed forgotten to take the vet papers out of his bag after their last visit, luckily.
Here: vets letter, treatment after she was hit by a car. Registered passport. All her vaccinations.
Wilkins checked the documents.
And what do you have? he asked the woman.
At home! But that doesnt matter! Im telling youshes my Molly!
Can you say exactly how you lost her? asked Wilkins.
We were walking. She slipped her lead and ran off. I searched everywhere, put up missing posters.
Where was this?
In the park. Just nearby.
And where do you live?
Churchill Avenue.
Oliver stiffened.
Thats two miles from the shop where I found her. If she was lost in the park, how did she end up there?
She must have got lost!
Dogs usually find their way home, he pointed out.
Her cheeks flushed.
What do you know about dogs? she snapped.
I know, Oliver replied softly, that a loved dog doesnt sit hungry on the same cold pavement for weeks. She searches for her people.
One question, Wilkins interjected. You said you advertised. But you never reported to the police?
The police? Never thought to
Not in six months? A thousand-pound dog missing, and no call?
I thought shed turn up on her own!
Wilkins frowned.
Miss, your ID please?
She fumbled in her bag, hands shaking.
Heres my card.
Wilkins checked.
Yes, Churchill Avenue, fifteen. Which flat?
Twenty-three.
Right. And when exactly did you lose the dog?
About six months agomaybe January twentieth or twenty-first.
Oliver unlocked his phone.
I found her on January twenty-third. And shed already been there nearly a month by then.
Which meant the dog had gone missing sooner.
Maybe I got the date wrong! the womans composure cracked.
Then, she simply broke: Fine! Have it your way! Just know, I really did love her!
Silence.
Oliver spoke gently, How did this happen?
My husband saidwhen we moved, no pets allowed at the new flat. Couldnt sell hershes no pedigree. So I left her by the shop. Thought someone would take her in.
His gut twisted.
You just abandoned her?
Well, left I didnt throw her out! People are kind. I hoped someone would help.
So why do you want her now?
I split up with my husband. He left. Im alone, andI want her back. I did love her, I did.
Oliver couldnt believe it.
Loved her? he said quietly. You dont abandon those you love.
Wilkins snapped his notebook shut.
Its clear. Officially, the dog belongs to Mrhe checked Olivers IDSutton. He paid for her care, registered her. All proper. End of matter.
The woman wept.
But I changed my mind! I want her back!
Too late, Wilkins replied coldly. You abandoned her. End of.
Oliver knelt, hugging Misty.
Its all right, girl. All right now.
Can I just just stroke her once? the woman whispered. One last time?
Oliver looked at Misty. She flattened her ears, hid behind his arm.
See? Shes frightened of you.
I didnt meancircumstances she trailed off.
You know what? Oliver stood, voice trembling. We dont just end up in circumstances. People make choices. You chose to throw away a living soul. Now you want to change that when it suits you.
The woman sobbed.
I know. But it hurts, being alone.
And how do you think she felt, waiting by that shop for weeks?
Silence.
Molly, the woman called one last, broken time.
The dog didnt flinch.
At last, the woman turned and walked away, hastily, never looking back.
Wilkins clapped Oliver on the shoulder.
You did right. Shes bonded with you, anyone can see.
Thank you. For understanding.
No bother. Im a dog man myself. Know what it means.
Once the officer left, Oliver sat with Misty, just the two of them.
Well then, he said, rubbing her head. No one will come between us now. Promise.
Misty looked up. In those eyes, he saw not gratitude, but something much deeper. Limitless, loyal love.
Love.
Come on, girl, time to go home?
She barked joyfully and ran at his side.
On the walk home, Oliver thought about what the woman had said; perhaps shed been right, in a way. Circumstances can changejobs, homes, money can all be lost.
But some things should never be lost. Responsibility. Love. Compassion.
At home, Misty curled up on her favourite rug. Oliver brewed a cup of tea, settled next to her.
You know, Mist, he said thoughtfully, maybe its all turned out for the best. Now we truly knowwe need each other.
Misty sighed contentedly.
