Emily Whitaker feels that no one is glad she has to go out again, hunting for a new hide‑out and some food – her paws can no longer support her emaciated, sick body. She knows perfectly well that no one is waiting for her here. She must crawl on, find shelter, find a bite to eat – but her limbs can’t bear the exhausted, ailing frame any longer.
Emily has always been a responsible person. At the nursery she watches carefully as the children put their toys back in place. At school she is trusted with the duty roster. At university she leads her project team. At work she volunteers to collect money for company events and colleagues’ gifts. Responsibility seems woven into her very character.
So when the residents unanimously elect her as the stair‑well captain, Emily isn’t surprised. Despite her youth she throws herself into the role with enthusiasm.
“Emily, on the fourth floor the Bakers are banging about until the early hours, there’s no peace,” Mrs. Margaret Hargreaves, the elderly neighbour, complains.
Emily steps in, talks to the noisy tenants so persuasively that even the loudest residents admit their fault and promise to change.
“Emily, someone just tosses rubbish straight into the bin instead of taking it to the wheelie‑bin!” the tenants sigh.
Emily stands tall, eyes the disorderly ones, and shames them mercilessly. The stairwell gleams with cleanliness, the flowerbed by the entrance bursts with colour. Emily feels proud of the order. Sometimes she pauses in front of the building just to admire the result of her work. Everything is as it should be. She copes. She’s a clever girl.
All of this continues until one day a dog appears in front of the house…
The creature is scruffy, matted, limp, a reddish mix that has dragged itself to the doorway and curled under the balcony to try to survive the night.
The children notice first. They go over, but the mothers, seeing a danger, shout frightenedly:
“Back off! It could bite!”
They grab the children and shoo the poor animal away:
“Get out of here! Shoo! Go away!”
The dog tries to stand. It fails. It tries to crawl, but even that is too much. It begins to whimper, eyes fixed on the shouting adults, tears streaming from its eyes.
The mothers are at a loss. The situation calls for decisive action, yet calling the animal control officers or the police feels excessive. At that moment Emily steps onto the courtyard – their only hope.
“There’s the dog!” they shout in chorus. “Emily, sort it out! It’s dangerous!”
Emily walks closer and looks under the balcony. Their gazes meet – hers stern, the dog’s confused.
The dog sighs, makes one more futile effort to pull itself up. It understands there’s no help here. It has neither the strength to walk nor to crawl. A plaintive whine escapes its mouth.
Emily’s heart tightens.
“It looks like its leg is injured,” she says aloud. “We need to get it to the vet.”
The mothers exchange glances, each thinking, “We don’t want to get our hands dirty!” – and hurriedly usher the children back inside:
“Come on, we have to go! The kids need to sleep! Emily, sort this out!”
They leave the girl with the abandoned animal.
Emily sighs, digs into her bag and wonders whether she has enough money for a vet visit. She can’t carry the dog herself – it’s not only filthy but also heavy.
She looks around for help and spots an old Mini pulling up in front of the stairwell – the same model the Baker family uses.
From the car steps out Liam Baker.
“Well, look who’s come to rescue the whole block! What a scandal,” he jokes brightly.
“Please, help,” Emily replies seriously, nodding toward the balcony.
Liam crouches, spots the dog.
“Is it yours?”
“Of course not!” Emily snaps. “We just need to help. The vet is nearby but we have nothing to transport it with.”
Liam assesses the dog, then his own vehicle, and exhales heavily:
“I know my mate Dave… he’ll have a fit if he finds out! But a good deed beats a few scratches.”
He pulls an old blanket from the boot and spreads it over the seats.
“Let’s get this little one to the vet. If anything goes wrong, you’ll take the blame,” he says.
“Deal!” Emily promises, then gently turns to the dog: “Come on, little one, we’re taking you to the vet. Hold on.”
The dog allows itself to be lifted, offering no resistance. Emily strokes it along the way, whispering soothing words.
At the animal clinic a young veterinarian, Dr. Victor, greets them with messy hair and a serious expression. He examines the patient, puts a splint on the injured leg, and writes a prescription.
“It’ll need plenty of rest, there’s a fracture,” Dr. Victor explains.
“Is it pregnant as well?” Emily asks, startled, feeling a little foolish.
“It seems so, just recently,” the vet confirms.
“What do we do with it?” Emily asks, almost at a loss.
“I can’t take it home,” Liam says, shaking his head. “The owners will claim it.”
“I don’t have a place either…” Emily adds softly.
A solution must be found quickly.
“Let’s gather all the residents! Together we’ll figure something out,” Liam urges.
“I hope so,” Dr. Victor’s voice chimes in. “In fact, bring it back in a week for a check‑up. I’ve already logged it. What’s your name?”
“Emily Whitaker,” she replies.
“And what shall we call the dog?” the vet asks.
Emily and Liam glance at each other. There’s no tag, no collar.
“How about Agatha?” Emily suggests, the first name that comes to mind.
The dog perks up its ears, looks at Emily.
“Do you like the name? Let’s call you Agatha, alright?” Emily asks gently.
The dog sneezes in response.
“Agreed,” Dr. Victor notes with a smile. “You can keep Agatha. I’m sure she’ll bring you good luck.”
When the trio returns to the stairwell, Mr. Lucas Baker stands there, arms crossed, his gaze sharp.
“Where the devil have you been?” he snarls, but as soon as he spots Liam carrying the dog, his mouth falls open and his eyes widen.
“Lucas, it’s just a dog… It crashed into the building, and she’s even pregnant… We took her to the vet,” Liam explains hastily. “We thought we’d make her a little bed under the balcony… Poor thing…”
“A bed under the balcony in this cold?!” Lucas fumes. “She needs warmth and a proper home!”
“Well, that’s why we want to talk to the neighbours. Maybe we can all come up with a plan,” Liam says.
Surprisingly, Lucas doesn’t argue. A maternal instinct seems to override his usual gruffness. Together with Emily they go door‑to‑door, calling an emergency meeting of the residents.
No one wants to adopt the dog, but a suggestion arises: pool the money for a dog house, set it up under the balcony, and create a small fund for food.
Thus Agatha gets her own home.
A modest, cosy dog house appears beneath the building, like a tiny replica of the block itself. Inside are soft blankets and a comfortable nest. Agatha crawls in carefully, mindful not to aggravate her sore leg.
“It would be sensible to write a statement for the council,” Emily proposes. “So it’s all official.”
The residents sign the document quickly, and Emily delivers it to the local police station. Fortunately, the officers understand and grant permission for the dog to stay on the property.
When Emily returns to her tidy flat, a sense of duty fills her, yet sleep eludes her. After a few attempts she dresses and goes to check on Agatha.
“How are you doing?” she asks, sitting on the bench outside.
The dog whines softly. She’s warm now, the pain has eased, and most importantly, a person she trusts is by her side.
“I’ll come back,” Emily promises. “And maybe we’ll think of something even better…”
She doesn’t yet know what fate will bring.
Emily keeps taking Agatha to the vet until she’s fully healed. The young vet, Dr. Victor, watches over the red‑coated dog and also keeps an eye on the diligent, honest Emily.
He eventually proposes to Emily, and together with Agatha they move into Victor’s country cottage, where there’s room for everyone – people and pets alike.
Meanwhile Lucas learns he’s expecting a child, and the atmosphere in his home softens. When their baby, little William, arrives, even the once‑grumbling Mrs. Margaret Hargreaves only smiles and no longer complains.
The fourth stairwell in the block sees positive changes for all its residents, though none think back to the day a red dog appeared under a balcony.
Emily, who now lives elsewhere but retains her restless, kind heart, once again plays with Agatha and her tiny pups, smiles, and thinks:
“I’m so happy… Thank you, Universe! It all started with our Agatha, the dog from the fourth stairwell.”
