Dear Diary,
Granddad, look! I pressed my nose against the kitchen window. A dog!
Just beyond the garden gate a scruffy mongrel darted about black, filthy, ribs jutting out.
Another mutt, muttered Arthur Thompson, sliding his slippers onto the cold floor. Its been prowling for three days now. Get out of here!
He lifted a wooden stick. The animal jumped back but didnt bolt. It sat a few feet away, staring. Just stared.
Granddad, dont shoo it! I grabbed his sleeve. Its probably hungry and cold.
My own worries are enough! he snapped. Itll bring fleas, disease. Away with it!
The dog tucked its tail and shuffled away. Yet the moment Arthur disappeared through the back door, it turned back
I have lived with Granddad for half a year now, ever since my parents were killed in a car crash. He took me in, though he never really got along with children. He grew used to the quiet, to his own routine.
And then there I was a girl who cries at night, constantly asking, Granddad, when will Mum and Dad come back?
How do I explain that they never will? He only grumbled and turned away. It was hard on both of us, but there was nowhere else to go.
After lunch, while Granddad dozed in front of the television, I slipped out into the yard with a bowl of leftover soup.
Come here, Rover, I whispered. Thats what Ill call you. Nice name, isnt it?
The dog crept forward cautiously, lapped the bowl clean, then lay down, head resting on its paws, watching me with gratitude.
Youre a good girl, I petted her. Very good.
From that day Rover never left the house. She guarded the gate, saw me off to school, met me on the way back. Whenever Arthur stepped outside, his voice boomed across the lane:
Again you! How many times must I tell you?
But Rover had learned: the man barked, but he didnt bite.
Neighbour Samuel Briggs, polishing his fence, watched the whole spectacle and one day said:
Pasha, youre chasing her for nothing.
Whats it to me! I need a dog like a toothache!
Perhaps, Samuel began, God sent her to you for a reason.
Arthur only snorted.
A week passed. Rover stayed at the gate in rain or frost. I kept slipping her bits of food, and Granddad pretended not to notice.
Granddad, can we let Rover into the shed? Its warmer there, I begged at dinner.
No, never! he thumped the table. Theres no room for animals inside!
But she
No buts! Enough of your whims!
I pouted and fell silent. That night Granddad tossed and could not sleep. In the morning he looked out the window and saw Rover curled up in a little mound of snow. Shell soon be given to God, or whoever, he thought, feeling a sick knot in his stomach.
On Saturday I went to the frozen pond to skate, and, as always, Rover trotted after me. I laughed, spun on the ice, while she watched from the bank.
Watch me! I shouted, dashing to the centre.
The ice cracked under me. I fell into black, icy water. It pulled me under; I flailed, screamed, but the sound was swallowed by the splash.
Rover froze for a heartbeat, then bolted toward the house.
Arthur was chopping wood when he heard a wild bark. He turned and saw the dog darting across the yard, lunging at my trousers, dragging me toward the gate.
Are you mad? he shouted, bewildered.
Rover kept pulling, teeth clenched on my coat, eyes full of panic. Something finally clicked for Arthur.
Lily! he cried, sprinting after her.
Rover surged forward, looking back to see if I was keeping up, then onward to the pond.
Arthur spotted a dark blot in the water and heard faint splashes.
Hold on! he yelled, grabbing a long pole. Hold on, girl!
He scrambled across the cracking ice, pulled me up onto the bank. Rover circled, barking, encouraging.
When they lifted me out, I was bruised and blue. Arthur brushed off the snow, whispered prayers, and pressed his cheek to my forehead.
Granddad Rover, wheres Rover? I whispered.
The dog sat trembling beside me, shivering from cold or fear.
Shes here, Arthur rasped. Right here.
After that rescue something shifted. Arthur never yelled at the dog again, though he still kept her out of the house.
Granddad, why? I asked, tears welling. She saved my life!
She saved you, yes. But theres still no room for her inside.
Why not?
Because thats how its always been, he growled, sounding angry at himself as much as at anyone else. A sour feeling gnawed at his heart, like cats scratching at a wound.
Samuel stopped by for tea, chewing on biscuits.
Heard what happened, he began gently.
I heard, Arthur muttered.
Shes a good dog, clever.
Sometimes.
You should look after her.
Arthur shrugged. We keep her. We dont chase her away.
Only because you wont chase her now. But where does she sleep at night?
Outside, of course. Is she a dog or not?
Samuel shook his head. Youre odd, Pasha. You saved her life and now you turn a blind eye. Thats ungrateful.
Im not indebted to that mutt! Arthur snapped. We feed her, we dont beat her thats enough!
Whether youre right or wrong, whats the human thing to do?
The human thing is to love people, not furry things! he retorted.
Samuel fell silent, realizing the futility of arguing, but his eyes held a reproach.
Winter grew harsher, snow piling up to waist height. Arthur spent his mornings clearing paths, while Rover stayed by the gate, thin as a skeleton, fur matted, eyes dim, yet she never left her post.
Granddad, I tugged his sleeve, look at her. Shes barely alive.
She chose to stay, he waved off. No one forced her.
But she
Enough! he roared. How many times must I hear the same thing? Im fed up with that dog!
I fell silent, hurt. Later, as he read the newspaper, I whispered, She wasnt seen today.
What of it? he grunted without looking up.
All day shes missing. Maybe shes ill?
Maybe she finally went off. Thats where she belongs.
Granddad! How can you speak like that?
What else can I say? he set the paper down, staring at me. Shes not ours. Shes a stray. We owe her nothing.
We do owe her, I said softly. She saved me, yet we never gave her a warm place.
No place! he slammed his fist on the table. This isnt a zoo!
I burst into tears and fled to my room. He stayed at the table, the newspaper now an unread weight.
That night a blizzard rattled the cottage; the wind howled through the chimney, windows rattled, snow slammed against the panes. I lay awake, hearing my own thoughts: A dogs weather. I cursed myself, What does it matter? Its not my problem! Yet the thought lingered, heavy.
By morning the storm had ceased. I brewed tea, peered out. The yard was buried under a white sea; the path vanished, the old bench stood like a lone skeleton. By the gate something dark stuck out of the drift.
Probably rubbish, I thought, but my heart dropped.
I pulled on my coat, slipped on slippers, trudged out. The snow was kneedeep. I reached the gate and froze.
There, halfburied, was Rover, motionless. Snow covered her almost to the head only ears and a tip of tail poked out.
Good riddance, I muttered, then felt something snap inside me.
I brushed the snow away. She breathed faintly, a weak wheeze, eyes shut.
Ah, you foolish thing, I whispered. Why didnt you go?
She shivered at my voice, tried to lift her head but failed.
I hesitated, then carefully lifted her in my arms. She was light bone and fur yet still warm enough to be alive.
Hold on, I murmured, carrying her back to the cottage, laying her on an old blanket by the fireplace.
Granddad? Mabel appeared in the doorway in her nightgown. What happened?
It she froze out there. I think shell warm up now.
She rushed to the dog, eyes wide. Is she alive? Granddad, is she alive?
Shes alive. Fill her bowl with warm milk.
Right away! she darted to the kitchen.
I sat beside Rover, running my hand over her head, thinking, What sort of person have I become? Ive nearly killed her, yet she still trusts me.
Rover opened her eyes weakly, looked at me with gratitude, and a lump rose in my throat.
Milk is ready! Mabel placed the bowl. Rover strained to lift her head, lapped the milk, then more, then more. Granddad and I watched, astonished as if a miracle unfolded.
By afternoon she was sitting upright. By evening she shuffled around the kitchen on trembling legs. Arthur kept glancing at her, muttering, Temporarily, understand? Shell get stronger, then back outside.
I only smiled, noticing how Granddad slipped scraps of meat under the table for her, covered her with extra blankets, stroked her when he thought no one was looking.
She wont run away, I thought. She wont ever run away again.
The next morning Arthur rose early. Rover lay on the rug by the fire, studying him.
Well, youre alive then? he grumbled, pulling on his trousers. Right.
She wagged her tail cautiously, as if testing whether he might chase her again.
After breakfast, he put on his coat and stepped outside. He walked along the fence, inspected an old doghouse by the shed abandoned for years, perhaps a decade.
Rover! he shouted toward the house. Come here!
Mabel sprang up, Rover following, staying close to me but keeping her distance from him.
Look, he said, pointing at the dilapidated shed. The roofs caved in, the walls rotted. Needs fixing.
Why, Granddad? I asked, puzzled.
What else? he muttered. Its just an empty space. No point in leaving it a mess.
He hauled boards, a hammer, nails from the shed and began patching the roof, swearing at every splinter and misplaced board.
Rover sat nearby, eyes keen, understanding why he was working.
By noon the shed gleamed with a new roof. Arthur brought an old blanket, spread it inside, set out bowls of water and food.
There, he said, wiping sweat from his brow. All done.
Granddad, Mabel whispered, is that for Rover?
Who else would it be? he replied. She cant stay inside the house, but she deserves a proper place out there.
I threw my arms around him. Thank you, Granddad! Thank you!
He waved it off. Dont get sentimental. Remember this is only temporary until we find her proper owners.
Deep down he knew no one would ever come. Rover now belonged to us, however odd that family might be.
Samuel popped by, eyed the refurbished shed, the dog, and my smiling face. He smirked.
See, Pasha? I told you God sent her for a reason.
Leave your God out of it, Arthur snapped. Its a pity, a big one.
Indeed, Samuel agreed. Your hearts good, you just keep it hidden.
Arthur wanted to argue but stayed quiet, watching Rover sniff her new home, watching Mabel pat her head, realizing that, at last, they were a family imperfect, perhaps strange, but a family.
Alright, Rover, he said softly. This is now your home too.
She met his gaze, then curled up by the shed, eyes on the door leading back to the cottage where we lived.
