Circumstances dont simply come abouttheyre shaped by people. Yet so often, we create the very situations we later bemoan or wish to undo. This thought wound through my mind after everything that happened with Molly.
It was an ordinary, grey winter evening in Manchester. I trudged home from work, my breath forming little clouds in the air. The city often feels especially dull when the sky hangs low with cold drizzle and the streetlights cast murky shadows. I was passing by the Tesco Express on Oxford Road when I noticed a dog sitting quietly by the entrance. A scruffy, ginger mutt with a coat the colour of autumn leavesthe sort of dog that looks part fox, part teddy bear. Her eyes met mine, and I was struck by how lost and gentle she seemed. It reminded me of a child whod wandered too far from home.
I muttered, What are you waiting for, then? but my feet hesitated.
She didnt beg, didnt whine. Just looked at me.
Probably waiting for her owner, I thought, and carried on.
But the next eveningthere she was again. And the night after. Over days, she seemed to become part of the street itself, hunched near the sliding glass doors, watching life swirl around her. Shoppers occasionally tossed her the end of a sausage roll or half a sandwich. I found myself lingering.
One evening, I crouched down beside her. Where are your people, girl? I asked. She crept over, tail wagging timidly, put her nose gently against my leg. I froze. When was the last time Id stroked anyone, human or otherwise? It had been three years since my divorce. My flat had been a cavern of silence since. Just work, telly, and the hum of the fridge.
My Molly, I whispered, not sure where her name came from.
The next day, I brought her a pack of Cumberland sausages.
A week later, I posted a notice on Facebook: Found dog by Tescolooking for owner.
No one called.
A month dragged by. One night, finishing a late project as the site engineer, I trudged home knackered, only to see a crowd gathered outside the shop.
What happened? I asked Mrs Green from next door.
That dogs been hit. The ginger one thats been sleeping here for weeks.
My stomach lurched.
Where is she?
They took her to the vet, down at Piccadilly. God knows wholl pay for itno one needs another stray.
I didnt reply. I dashed down the street in panic.
At the clinic, the vet looked grim. Broken bones, possible internal bleeding. Treatment will be expensive, and I cant promise shell make it.
Do it. Whatever it takesIll sort the bill, I said, not caring about the cost.
When she was discharged, I took Molly home.
For the first time in years, my flat felt alive.
Life changedin ways I hadnt expected.
I started waking, not to the shriek of my alarm, but to Molly nudging my hand with her wet nose: time to get up, boss. I got out of bed smiling.
Mornings used to be coffee and BBC news on autopilot. Now they began with walks through Platt Fields Park, Molly prancing at my side.
Come on then, love, lets get some fresh air, Id say, and Molly would wag her tail as if shed won the lottery.
I sorted her paperwork at the vets: passport, vaccinations, all official. I even photographed every certificatejust in case.
My colleagues couldnt believe how much Id changed.
James, you look ten years younger! Whats your secret?
They were rightI felt needed again.
Molly was clever, uncannily so, picking up my moods or intentions in half a sentence. If I worked late, shed wait at the door with eyes full of concernlike she wanted to say, Ive been worried, you know.
Many evenings, we’d stroll aimlessly round the park, just chatting away. Id tell her about blueprints or the petty dramas at work; shed listen, ears perked, sometimes whining ever so softly.
You know, Molly, I always thought being alone was easierno one to bother you, nobody to answer to. Truth is, I was just scared to love again, Id admit, giving her a fond scratch.
Neighbours warmed to us. Mrs Green always kept a dog biscuit handy.
Lovely dogcan see shes cherished, shed smile.
Months passed. I even considered Instagramming Mollys adventuresher ginger coat shimmered like gold in the sunlight. She was a natural model.
And then something unexpected happened.
One ordinary walk in the park, Molly sniffed around the shrubs while I sat on a bench, scrolling through my emails.
Holly! Holly! a voice called out.
I looked up. A woman in her mid-thirties, blonde highlights, expensive sweats. She strode over, lips pursed, eyes fixed on Molly.
Molly sprang close to my side, ears back.
Sorry, I said, I think youre mistaken. This is my dog.
She bristled, hands on hips.
Thats my Holly! She went missing six months ago. You must have stolen her!
Excuse me?
I searched everywhere! She bolted from our flat doorstep, and you took her!
The world spun beneath my feet.
Hold on. I found her by Tescoshed been sleeping out here for a month. Hungry, cold. No one claimed her.
She was lost! Shes pure bredI paid two grand for her!
Pure bred? I glanced down at Molly. Shes as mixed as they come.
Shes a cross! Very expensive!
I stood up as Molly pressed against my legs.
If shes yours, show me some proofvet papers, photos, anything.
Her confidence faltered.
Theyre at home, but thats beside the point! I know my Holly. Holly, come here!
Molly didnt move.
Holly! Now!
She trembled, clinging to my side.
See? I said quietly. She doesnt recognise you.
Shes sulking I lost her. But I want her back!
Shes registered to meI have the clinics papers, receipts for dog food, toys, everything.
I dont care about your paperwork! This is theft!
Now bystanders were staring.
Fine, I said, pulling out my phone. Lets sort this by the book. Ill ring the police.
Go ahead! Ill prove shes minemy neighbours saw it!
I dialled. My heart pounded. What if she was right? Had Molly really run away?
But why would she stay outside Tesco for weeks, never trying to go home?
Why would she quiver beside me now if she was hers?
Hello, yes, its me theres a dispute in Platt Fields
The woman sneered. Ill get my dog back. Youll see.
But Molly pressed closer.
I realised thenI would fight for her, to the very end.
Because Molly wasnt just a stray anymore.
She was family.
A community officer showed up half an hour laterSergeant Matthews, deliberate and calm. I recognised him from council meetings.
So, tell me whats happened, he asked, notebook at the ready.
The woman launched in: Thats my Holly! I bought her for two grand! She went missing six months agoI this man stole her!
I didnt steal her, I interjected. I found her outside Tesco, starving, for weeks.
She was lost!
Matthews studied Molly. She remained glued to my side.
Does anyone have documents?
I do, I said, handing him a folderthe vet’s notes, Mollys passport, all the vaccination certificates.
He flipped through them.
And you? he asked the woman.
Theyre at home. But I know its Holly.
Can you describe exactly how you lost her?
We were out walkingshe slipped off the lead and vanished. I searched, posted flyers.
Where were you walking?
In the park. Nearby.
And where do you live?
DeansgateFlat 7, number 15.
I flinched.
Thats two miles from Tesco. If she got lost in the park, how did she end up there?
She wandered, I suppose.
Dogs can usually find their way home.
She blushed. What would you know about dogs?
I know enough, I said. A loved dog doesnt just sit hungry outside a supermarket for a month.
Matthews chimed in: You said you put up flyersdid you ever call the police?
The police? No. Never thought to.
Six months lost, worth two grand, but no report?
I thought shed turn up.
Matthews narrowed his eyes. May I see your ID, please?
She fished out her passport, hands shaking.
Yes, youre listed at Deansgate. Which flat again?
Seven.
When exactly did you lose her?
January. I dont remember the datemaybe the 20th or 21st.
I checked my phone.
I found her on the 23rd. Shed been outside Tesco nearly a month already. So she mustve gone missing before that.
The womans facade cracked.
Fine! Let her stay with you. But I did love her!
Matthews closed his notebook.
Well, with paper trail and vet records, she belongs to Mr Walkerhe glanced at my driver licenceHes cared for her, paid for everything. No contest on legal grounds.
The woman sniffled. But Ive changed my mind. I want her back.
Its too late, Matthews replied. You walked away. Circumstances were your own doing.
I knelt beside Molly, hugging her.
Its alright, love. Youre safe.
Can I stroke her, just once? the woman asked.
I looked at Molly. She ducked under my arm, trembling.
Shes frightened of you.
I didnt mean it. Life got in the way.
I stood up.
Nocircumstances dont just happen. We create them. You left her, and now you want her back when it suits you.
She began to cry.
I understand. But I was so lonely
And how do you think Molly felt, waiting outside, hoping youd return?
Silent.
Holly, she called, softly. Molly didnt stir.
Finally, she turned and hurried awayno glance back.
Matthews patted my shoulder.
Good call. Shes clearly bonded with you.
Thanksfor being fair.
Ive dogs myself. I know how it is.
When Matthews left, I sat with Molly, alone under the wintry sky.
Nobody can take you away now, sweetheart. Not ever.
Molly looked up at me. What I saw in her eyes wasnt gratitudeit was pure, absolute love.
Love.
Ready for home?
She barked, tail wagging, and scampered at my side.
Walking back, I reflected. The woman was right about one thing: circumstances shift, often beyond our control. You can lose your job, your flat, your money.
But some things should never be left behind. Responsibility. Compassion. Love.
At home, Molly curled contentedly on her favourite rug. I brewed a cuppa and sat down beside her.
You know what, Molly, I mused, stroking her soft ginger fur, maybe this was all for the best. Now we knowwithout a doubtwe belong together.
Molly sighed, content, and I felt truly at home.
