**Diary Entry**
Walking the dog today took an unexpected turn. Two men stopped beside me, a secondary school girl, and aggressively offered to “take me for a spin.” Id never seen my dog like thisher eyes burning with fury, her teeth bared threateningly. Before I could even process it, she lunged at the man whod grabbed my arm, knocking him down, her growl looming over him like a shadow.
When I turned seven, I got my own spacious, bright bedroom. But I refused to sleep there alone. Every night, one of my parentssometimes Mum, sometimes Dadwould lie beside me until I drifted off. If I woke and found myself alone, Id bundle up my pillow and blanket and march straight to their room. No amount of pleading or reasoning changed anything, even as I grew older.
Then, one day, the solution tumbled right into my patha white, fluffy bundle that yelped in fright before promptly puddling the floor. Closer inspection revealed an adorable puppy, so sweet and pitiful I immediately cried, “Mum, can we keep her? Please?” Negotiations followed: good grades, keeping my room tidy, walking her myself, andmost dauntingsleeping in my own room without Mum or Dad. I agreed to the first three without hesitation, but the last made me pause until I realised, “I wont be alone anymore!”
Thats how Daisy came to live with usa West Highland Terrier on paper, but in spirit, a proper lady with a strong will. And to everyones surprise, I kept my word. Once Daisy arrived, I slept in my own room, and she became my faithful companionday and night.
Daisy was a true beauty: well-groomed, aware of her charm, and utterly ladylike. She ignored other dogs but tolerated childrens eager hands with patient, almost regal indulgenceas if humouring their admiration. But if another dog approached? Her teeth flashed instantly, followed by an offended yelp.
To curb this, Mum and I enrolled in dog training classes. Three weeks of diligent attendance changed nothing. The instructors verdict? “She sees you as her pack. She doesnt need anyone else.” Fine by uswe were happy as we were.
For walks, Daisy and I chose the abandoned grassy lot behind our house. Once home to old barracks, now just broken foundations and wild fruit trees. Most dog owners preferred the tidy local park, but Daisy and I loved the secluded, free-spirited charm of this place.
And it was here that Daisy met her fate.
That summer, I turned fifteen; Daisy was eight. I was tall now, daydreaming with my phone in hand. Daisy carried herself like a confident, dignified lady. We strolled the lot togetherme lost in thought, Daisy sniffing the grasswhen suddenly, an attack! A massive, shaggy dog barrelled into her, resembling a sheepdog but wilder, boundless in energy. Playful, loud, and utterly infectious in his joy, he circled Daisy, nudging and licking her until she stood frozen, bewildered by his boldness.
“Dont worry, love!” called an elderly woman in her seventies, leaning on a walking stick. “Hes boisterous but gentle. Never bitten a soul!”
“I can see that,” I laughed, crouching as the excitable furball licked my hand, tail wagging furiously. “The only danger here is being licked to death!”
“You see, Id only ever let him out in the yard before. But my grandson visited yesterday and took him for a walkhe was so happy! Thought Id do the same. Then he spotted your girl and bolted straight to her.”
“And mine hasnt taken her eyes off him. Think shes smitten!”
“Splendid! Twos merrier. His names Duke. Im Margaret.”
From that evening on, Duke became a regular on our walks. Sometimes hed wait at the lot; if late, Daisy let out a high-pitched trilland within seconds, hed come barrelling. They chased each other, rolled in the dirt, played until exhausted.
Id bring a blanket, spread it under the apple tree, and read while Daisy and Duke rested side by side, noses touching. Occasionally, Margaret joined usbringing biscuits, settling on the edge of the blanket, and sharing stories. I listened gladlyshe lived alone, her son and grandson visiting rarely. Shed gotten Duke five years ago, thinking hed stay small. Instead, hed grown into a giant.
“Managing on my pensions a challenge,” she sighed, while Duke gazed at her adoringly.
By September, our walks shifted to evenings. One night, as we stepped onto the lot, Duke wasnt there. Then a black SUV roared over the bumps, blaring music, three drunk lads inside. Two staggered out, circling me.
I backed under the apple tree, quickly enabling voice recording on my phone before slipping it back into my pocket. Then I whispered to Daisy:
“Call Duke. Now.”
All I could do was hope shed be heard.
No encouragement neededDaisy burst into deep, urgent barks.
“Nice one!” one lad grinned, eyes sweeping over her approvingly.
“Proper little beast!” the other smirked. Daisy, hearing the word, snarled, hackles rising.
“Why stand around?” the first said, suddenly grabbing my arm. “Come on, well take you for a spin. Promise well return you in one piece mostly.”
“Lads, you wont like whats coming,” I said flatly, stalling. “Another dogs on his way. Best leave while you still can.”
“What, another mutt?” he sneered, kicking Daisy aside before dragging me toward the car. “Lets see if youre as fun as you look!”
“Maybe hell eat us,” the other laughed, slapping my thigh. But the fun ended fastthe next second, he was sent flying as if hit by a battering ram. Duke ploughed into him full-force.
Id never seen him like thiseyes bloodshot, jaws foaming, teeth bared like a beast ready to kill. Before anyone could react, Duke slammed into my captor, snarling, pinning him down like a furious four-legged mountain.
The other lad scrambled back into the SUV, slammed the door, and sped off into the dark.
I stopped the recording and dialled the police.
When they arrived, the first attacker lay beneath Duke, drenched in drool, trembling.
“Thats enough, Duke,” I said softly, gripping his collar. “Ugh, dont choke on filth. Let him golet him stew in his shame.”
The officers led him awayhis trousers undeniably damp.
As I knelt, one hand soothing Dukes panting muzzle, the other hugging Daisystill shaking, whimpering as if asking, *Are we safe now?*I whispered, “Your owner said you couldnt even growl” Leaning closer, I added, “Oh, you can. Thank you, my hero.”
October evenings grew colder. One night, Daisy and I returned to the lotbut no Duke. She barked cheerfully, but no answer came. At Margarets house, an ambulance stood outside. She was carried out on a stretcher.
“Taken ill,” a neighbour explained. “Coughing for days, barely walking. Then Duke started howling like madhe never barks without reason. I rushed over, found her unconscious, burning up Called the ambulance. Hope she pulls through.”
“She will. Ill visit tomorrow.”
“God willing But the dogIve got my own male. Two wouldnt get along.”
“Well take him. Ill talk to my parentsthey wont refuse.”
Duke, in his new home, was happy with Daisybut grief lingered. Every time I returned from visiting Margaret, hed sprint to the door, hopeful eyes asking, *Is she with you?*
As Margaret recovered, I brought her a tablet. From then on, Duke “met” her over video callssniffing the screen at first, then wagging his tail, finally sitting patiently while she laughed, stroking the air as if ruffling his fur. Both hearts lightened.
Days later, Margarets son arrived. After thanking me, he said, “Were taking Mum with us. Cant leave her alone. But theres no room for Duke. A three-bed flat, five of us already No space for a dog.”
“Dont worry. Hes ours now. Just keep the tabletlet them stay connected.”
Autumn leaves rustled underfoot; rain lashed the windows. Perched on the wide sill, wrapped in a blanket, I gazed toward the lot. Below, two dogs lay side by side, noses touching.
One story had ended. But beyond the rain and horizonanother began. One with space for home, warmth, and a loyal growl that said more than words ever could.
