**Diary Entry – 12th March**
The morning began quietly. I started the engine, adjusted the mirrors, and glanced at my golden beauty in the passenger seat. Molly always loved car rides—sitting quietly, gazing out the window, sometimes resting her head on my knee. Obedient, clever, never any trouble.
“Right then, Molly, off we go?” I smiled as the car hummed to life.
She wagged her tail but didn’t turn to the window. Instead, she fixed her eyes on me.
Five minutes in, her stare grew unnerving. She sat with her head slightly tilted, watching me intently, as if trying to speak.
“Alright, what’s got into you?” I chuckled. “Forgot the indicator, have I?”
She barked in reply—not a quick “woof” but loud, insistent, like an argument.
“Easy now,” I said, keeping my eyes on the road. “What’s all this about?”
But she didn’t stop. The barking grew sharper, louder, grating on my nerves. Normally, she’s silent in the car. Today? Like she’d seen a ghost.
“Hungry, are you? Or just tired?”
Molly ignored me. She leaned forward slightly, still staring, and something in her expression sent a chill down my spine.
“Honestly, you’re giving me the creeps…” I kept one hand on the wheel and brushed my fingers over her muzzle.
Then I noticed. Her eyes weren’t just on me—they flickered toward something else. Something frightening. I pulled over sharply and saw it…
Carefully, I returned my hand to the wheel, but the unease lingered. Molly sat rigid, unblinking, glancing between me and the footwell.
“What, something down there?” I peered uselessly from my seat.
Another sharp bark. Then she looked ahead, urging me to act. I’d never seen her so determined.
“Alright, alright,” I muttered, easing onto the verge.
Outside, I popped the bonnet—nothing obvious. Then I crouched, checking beneath. A slow drip of murky fluid pooled under the front wheel.
“Brake fluid,” I exhaled.
I touched the drip—the acrid smell confirmed it. A torn hose, leaking steadily. One thought struck me: if I’d kept driving, especially on the motorway, the brakes could’ve failed entirely.
I looked up at Molly. She waited on the seat, watching me, calm but alert.
“Well then, girl, you’re my guardian angel today,” I said, ruffling her ears.
Only then did I understand—that odd barking, that stare? Not a whim. She’d just saved our lives.
**Lesson learned:** Never dismiss a dog’s warning. They see what we don’t.
