I bent down towards the old sheepdog. She looked at me with a resigned expression, then turned away. She had long since stopped hoping. Shed learned too much about people to expect anything else.
Out on the estate, they were known simply as the dog gang. But Id always correct people, Theyre not a gang. Theyre just five dogs sticking together to survive.
The leader was the old sheepdogclearly, shed once had a home. Most likely, her owners abandoned her when they moved away for good. It was she who kept the others close, protecting, guiding and holding together this little family.
Every day, I fed them. Mornings on my walk to work and evenings coming home. Without fail, as soon as I showed up, five tailssome curled, some hanging lowbegan whirring like fans. The joy in their eyes was enough to squeeze a mans heart. Theyd leap up, nuzzle wet noses into my hands, and lick my fingers. Those looks were full of everything: thankfulness, trust, and a flicker of hope.
But what hope can a dog keep, once shes been left to fend for herself on the street? And yet, hope they did. They trusted. They loved. Because of that, I never came empty-handedthey waited, day after day. And I always came.
But that morning, only four bounded up to me. They whimpered and kept glancing anxiously down the far end of the street. Straightaway, I knew something was wrong.
With a heavy sigh, I phoned work to say Id be late.
Right at the edge of the long street, on the outskirts of London in a sleepy neighbourhood, the old sheepdog lay beneath the hedges. Shed been hit by a car. There was a sharp bend there, and drivers rarely slowed down. This time, shed been unlucky.
Those four small dogs howled and looked into my eyesthe only person they trusted.
I bent down to her. Tears welled in her eyes. She looked at me, full of sorrow, and turned away. Shed stopped expecting kindness from humans long ago. Her only worry seemed to be what would happen to the four shed been responsible for.
So this is it Is it hurting? I asked softly, reaching for my phone again.
After sorting out a day off, I brought the car round and very gently lifted her onto the back seat. Her four friends jumped about, pressing themselves against my hands as if to say thank you.
At the vets, the doctor examined her and shook his head.
Probably best to let her go. Far too many fractures. Not much chance shell pull through, and the treatmentll cost a fortune
But there is a chance? I interrupted.
Theres always a chance, the vet admitted. But shell be in pain. Is it worth it?
It is for me, I said firmly. So it is for her too. And anyway there are four dogs waiting for her. How would I ever look them in the eye?
The vet studied me carefully and nodded. Right, lets begin then.
A week later, I picked up the sheepdog from the clinic. During that time, the other four barely moved from my doorstep. The joy and excitement when they saw her again was so loud my healing patient even managed to wag her tail and try to lick her friends.
I carried her inside, then went out to speak to the others. I told them all about what it meant to have a homeabout responsibility and things that had to change from their rough life outside.
They sat in front of me, listening as if they understood every word. Then I stopped, looked at them, and grinned.
Well, then? What are you waiting for? Come on in.
And with that, I opened the garden gate.
The sheepdog mended far more quickly than I had expected. She was always trying to get up and join her friends, but I kept a careful watch so she wouldnt overdo it. Once she was strong enough to stand, I slipped a special collar on hera gilded one with a tiny bell.
Now I leave for work earlier each day, striding down the long, empty street with five dogs by my side: four little ones, tails curled in circles, and a big, grand old sheepdog with her golden collar and bell.
You should see the way they look around. Now theyve got a home. And sheshe has a collar. She walks with her head high and proud.
You wouldnt understand, because youve never worn such a collar with a bell. But ask any dog: thats how those with dignity walk.
So we set out togethera man who couldnt just walk by, and five dogs who somehow never forgot how to hope or love, even after people had let them down.
And we walk together, glad for who knows what. Perhaps one another, perhaps the sunlight, or maybe for the simple truth that love still exists in this world.
And when you see it in their eyes, you realise: while these eyes look at you, all is not lost.
