One evening, while walking her dog, a teenage girl named Emily was approached by two men who aggressively offered to “take her for a ride.” Shed never seen her dog, Daisy, like this beforeher eyes blazing with anger, teeth bared in a warning snarl. Before Emily could even process what was happening, Daisy lunged at the man whod grabbed her arm, knocking him to the ground and standing over him with a low, menacing growl, like a shadow of fury.
When Emily turned seven, she got her own bright, spacious bedroom. But she flat-out refused to sleep there alone. Every night, one of her parentssometimes Mum, sometimes Dadwould tuck in beside her until she drifted off. If she woke up and found herself alone, shed grab her pillow and blanket and march straight to their room. No amount of pleading or gentle reasoning changed a thing, even as she grew older.
That is, until one day, the solution rolled right into her lifeliterally. A fluffy white ball of fur, trembling at first, then promptly piddling on the floor. Up close, it was clear: this was an adorable puppy, so sweet and helpless that Emily immediately begged, “Mum, can we keep her?” Negotiations followed: good grades, keeping her room tidy, walking the pup herself, andmost dauntingsleeping alone in her own room. The first three terms? Easy. The last one gave her pauseuntil she realised, “But now I wont be alone!”
And so Daisy came homea Westie on paper, but in spirit, a proper little lady with a strong will. Surprisingly, Emily kept her word. From the moment Daisy arrived, she slept in her own room, with the pup as her loyal companionthrough dreams and daily routines alike.
Daisy was a proper beauty: well-groomed, aware of her charm, carrying herself like a duchess. She mostly ignored other dogs but toleratedeven condescended tochildren who wanted to pet her, as if graciously accepting their admiration. But if another dog dared approach? Teeth flashed, and out came an indignant yelp.
To curb Daisys attitude, Mum and Emily enrolled in dog training classes, attending diligently for three weeks. But whether the trainer was inexperienced or Daisy just too stubborn, nothing changed. The experts verdict? “She sees you as her pack. She doesnt need anyone else.” Fine by themthe three of them were happy as they were.
For walks, Emily and Daisy preferred the overgrown field behind their house. Once dotted with old sheds, now just crumbling foundations and wild fruit trees remained. One side bordered a row of ageing cottages, most on their last legs. Other dog owners used the neat, fenced park nearby, but Emily and Daisy loved this tucked-away spot, with its air of freedom and solitude.
And it was here Daisy met her fate.
That summer, Emily turned fifteen, Daisy eight. Emily was tall now, dreamy-eyed, always with her phone in hand. Daisy carried herself with the confidence of a seasoned matriarch. They strolled the field together: Emily lost in thought, Daisy sniffing the grasswhen suddenly, an ambush! A huge, shaggy dog barrelled into them, something like a sheepdog but wilder, bursting with boundless energy. A cheerful, oversized goof, he circled Daisy, nudging, licking, his wagging tail stirring up dust. Daisy froze, baffled by this cheeky intruder.
“Dont worry, love!” called an elderly woman in her seventies, leaning on a cane. “Hes playful, but gentle. Never bitten a soul!”
“Doesnt look like he could hurt a fly,” Emily laughed, crouching as the exuberant mutt licked her hands, tail whipping up a mini dust storm. “Only danger here is death by slobber!”
“My grandson let him out yesterdayfirst time off the property. Saw your pup and bolted straight over.”
“And mine hasnt taken her eyes off him. Think shes smitten!”
“Splendid! Twos merrier than one. This is Buster. Im Margaret.”
From that evening on, Buster joined their walks. Sometimes hed wait at the field; if late, Daisys sharp bark summoned him instantly. Theyd race through the grass, roll in the dirt, then collapse under the apple tree where Emily spread a blanket to read. Noses touching, the dogs dozed side by side. Sometimes Margaret joined them, bringing biscuits, perching on the blankets edge to chat. Emily listened fondlythe widow lived alone, her son and grandson visiting rarely. Shed gotten Buster five years back, thinking hed stay small. Instead, hed ballooned into a gentle giant.
“Couldnt manage him without my sons help. Pension doesnt stretch far with this appetite,” Margaret sighed, while Buster gazed up adoringly.
By September, walks shifted to evenings. One night, as they stepped onto the field, Buster was nowhere in sight. Then a black SUV roared over the bumps, blaring music, three drunk lads inside. Two stumbled out, weaving toward Emily from either side.
She backed under the apple tree, quickly activating her phones recorder and pocketing it. Then, whispering to Daisy: “Fetch Buster. Now.”
Her only hope was that hed hear.
No encouragement neededDaisy erupted into deep, urgent barks, a full alarm.
“Proper guard dog youve got!” one lad grinned, looking her over. “Glad we stopped!”
“Fine little beast,” agreed his mate, just as Daisyhearing the wordsnarled, lip curling.
“Why stand around?” the first said, grabbing Emilys arm. “Come on, love, well bring you back safe Mostly.” His friend laughed, seizing her other arm.
“Lads, you wont like what happens next,” Emily said flatly, buying time. “Another dogs coming. Best leave while you still can.”
“What, another mutt?” one sneered, kicking Daisy aside before yanking Emily toward the car. “Hope youre at least a bit of fun!”
“Maybe shell bite,” the other jeered, smacking her thighjust as Buster slammed into him like a battering ram.
Emily had never seen him like this: eyes bloodshot, foam flying, teeth bared in a savage grimace.
Before anyone reacted, Buster charged the one holding Emily, knocking him down and standing over him, a mountain of rage.
The other lad scrambled into the SUV, doors slamming as it screeched away.
Emily stopped the recording and dialed 999.
When police arrived, the first attacker still lay pinned under a furious, drool-soaked Buster, trembling.
“Enough, Buster, thats enough,” Emily said softly, gripping his collar. “Ugh, dont choke on this filth. Let him go dry his trousers.”
The officers led the sodden, stinking lad away.
Kneeling, Emily cupped Busters panting face with one hand, pulling Daisy close with the other. The little dog shook, whining as if to ask, “Safe now?”
“Margaret said you couldnt even growl,” Emily murmured, then added warmly, “Couldnt you? Thank you, my hero.”
October nights grew colder. One evening, as Emily and Daisy crossed the field, Buster didnt appear. Daisy barked, but no answer came. At Margarets cottage, an ambulance stood outside. The old woman was carried out on a stretcher.
“Took ill days ago,” a neighbour explained. “Buster howled like madnever does that. I found her unconscious, burning up Pray she pulls through.”
“She will. Ill visit tomorrow.”
“God willing But the dogIve got my own. Theyd never get on.”
“Well take him. Its tight, but my parents wont refuse.”
At his new home, Buster adored Daisy but moped. Each time Emily returned from visiting Margaret, hed sprint to the door, hopeful eyes asking, “Is she coming?”
As Margaret recovered, Emily brought her a tablet. Now Buster “visited” via video calls. At first, he sniffed the screen, then wagged, finally sitting still as Margaret “petted” the air, both comforted.
When Margarets son arrived, he thanked Emily but admitted: “Mums moving in with us. But our flats too small for Buster”
“Dont worry. Hes family now. Just keep the tabletlet them still see each other.”
Autumn rustled underfoot, rain pattered the windows. On the wide sill, wrapped in a blanket, Emily gazed at the field. Below, two dogs lay nose to nose.
One story had ended. But beyond the rain and horizonanother began. One with room for home, warmth, and a loyal growl that said more than words ever could.
