Monday, 19th February
Carrying my heavy shopping bags, my thoughts wandered as I trudged through our estate in Birmingham. My knees were aching again, and I felt the familiar stab of disappointmentmy granddaughter Emma had promised to call, but the phone stayed silent as ever. Winter had been odd this year; one day it would snow and the next everything turned to grey slush. The world felt out of sorts, and so did I.
Lost in thought, I nearly toppled over an unexpected obstacle. A scrawny, ginger stray darted between my legsribs jutting out, her fur a patchwork of tangled clumps.
Watch it, you little rascal! I shouted, unable to help myself.
The dog didnt pause, charging off as if she was on a mission. In her mouth she clamped something that looked like a chunk of stale bread.
Must be hiding pups somewhere, I muttered, shifting my bags. Springs nearly here, after all. Nature takes its course.
And yet, as I continued, I couldnt shake the odd feeling that something was off with the picture.
The next morning, the scene repeated itself. The same ginger shadow, bread in mouth, on the same paththis time darting through the broken fence around the abandoned house at the end of the road. That place had stood empty since old Mrs. Edith passed away half a year agocold, silent, and slowly crumbling.
Susan, my neighbour from upstairs, leaned out over the balcony. Look, Mary! Your mates back at it again! Every day, I swear. Where does she find food?
What food? I called back, pausing.
Shes got something in her mouth. Susan squinted. Probably scrounges through bins, feeding pups, most likely the mothering instinct, you know?
Are you sure its pups?
Who else? Springs nearly herenature never fails.
I nodded, but couldnt shake the uneasy feeling. Pups would make sense, but the niggle in my chest told me there was more to it.
The ginger dog wriggled through the gap in the rotten fence and vanished into the overgrown garden of Ediths old place. For a moment I just stood there, indecisive.
Come on, Mary, honestly. Just go and see. The whole estates been gossiping about it.
My hands trembling a little, I squeezed through the fence too. The boards creaked but I made it inside. Waist-high nettles, smashed bottles, rusted tinsit was the very image of neglect.
Then I heard it: the faintest of whimpers floating from the back of the garden.
I crept towards the sound, rounded the half-collapsed shed, and stopped dead.
Ginger sat beside an old, battered dog kennel. In front of her, chained cruelly to a post, lay a large black dogher muzzle frosted with age, fur clumped and dull. You could tell by her clouded, milky eyes: the poor soul was blind.
Ribs stuck out from her side, and the chain was so short she could barely move. She barely breathed.
Ginger carefully laid her crust of bread before the black dog, gently nudging it within reach.
The black dog stirred feebly, sniffed out the bread, and started gnawing at it desperately. Ginger just sat there, silent and still.
Once the bread was gone, Ginger licked her companions grey muzzle before settling down beside her.
I stood frozen, burning tears stinging my eyes.
My God shes been feeding her. Starving herself, but not letting the old girl go hungry.
I dont know how long I stood until Ginger lifted her head and looked straight at me. In her eyes, I saw a pleaeither go or help us.
Waitjust wait a moment, I whispered, voice cracked.
I hurried home faster than I had in twenty years, ignoring my protesting knees and the stitch in my side.
Once inside, I pulled together anything edible I could findsome boiled chicken left from last night, the leftover sausage, a bowl of porridge, a dish of clean waterand rushed back.
The gardens tableau hadnt changed. Ginger lying beside her blind friend.
Here you go, I breathed, kneeling down. I offered chicken to Ginger, but she wouldnt touch it, just watched as I placed it near the black dogs nose.
Are you daft? You need to eat too, you poor thing. Only then did I realiseshe wouldnt eat before her friend had enough.
When the black dog had her fill, Ginger daintily took the leftover bits.
Thats it, then, I said quietly.
They both drank water for a long while, while I sat wiping the tears from my chin.
What you crying for? Susan called from behind, peering through the gap.
She stared wide-eyed at the scene.
Shes not been feeding pups, I told her quietly. Shes been keeping this old girl alive.
Susan went quiet, sniffling. Whyd they leave her like that?
Edith had her chained up. When she died, nobody bothered to check for the dog. Shes been out here for half a year. Not a soul noticed except this little ginger girl. Whos fed her, every day.
Susan knelt down and stroked Ginger. Clever thing clever thing.
By dusk, the whole block had gatheredsome bringing tins of dog food, others old blankets. The men tried to break the chain but it was too thick.
Need an angle grinder, declared old Mr. Jack. Ill fetch it tomorrow.
He was true to his word. In the morning, neighbours gathered again as Jack set to work.
Steady, Jack! Susan called. Dont scare her!
The grinder screeched, sent up sparks. The old dog started, trying weakly to rise.
And thenfreedom.
There now, shes free, Jack panted, mopping his brow.
I knelt by the black dog, stroking her frail head. Will you come with me, love? Ive got a warm flat, food, and your ginger friend can come too. Ill take you both.
The blind girls tail gave the ghost of a wag.
I tried to lift herit was no good, she was too heavy for me.
Here, let me. Jack picked her up and cradled her gently. Which flat?
Block C, flat twelve.
We crossed the courtyard in silence, neighbours parting before us. Ginger trotted at my heels, ears back, tail tucked tight.
Dont fret, love, I murmured to her. Youre both coming.
At the block entrance, the familiar ring of gossiping pensioners on their bench eyed us with disapproval.
Mary, are those dogs coming into your flat? one tutted.
They are, I said flatly.
Theyre filthy, covered in fleas! Theyll stink the place out!
Ill clean them.
What will your neighbours say?
What should they say? I snapped, my voice shocking even me. That blind old thing lay chained up for half a year and not a soul noticed; only this little ginger girl saw. And were the ones who walked past, pretending not to.
The bench fell silent, eyes fixed on the pavement.
I didnt know, one mumbled. No one said after Edith passed.
Exactlynobody said anything! Because nobody cared. I wiped my cheeks and led the way inside, Jack following, Ginger padding behind.
Once home, I spread out a blanket. Jack gently placed the black dog down.
There you are, he said. Need help with anything else?
No, thank you, Jack.
When the door closed, I leaned against it, breathless. Ginger sat nose-to-nose with her friend, studying me intently. There was such open trust and gratitude in her brown eyes it almost undid me.
Alright, I sighed. Lets get to know each other. Im Mary. What should I call you? Ginger barked softly.
Ginger, then. And you, I turned to the black dog, youll be Dotty. Is that alright?
I put down a bowl of porridge and scraps of sausage for Dotty. She sniffed, wary in her new surroundings, so I took a small bite in my fingers and held it to her lips.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Dotty took the food from my hand.
Thats it, I murmured softly, Well done. Go on, theres more.
Piece by piece, I fed her. Ginger rested her head on my knee. That gentle gestureI understood it was trust and thankfulness.
Later that evening, Susan rang up.
Hows it going in there, Mary? All alive?
Alive, I said, tired but peaceful. Theyre both asleep now.
And you, not sleeping?
I cant, not yet. Thinking.
About what?
I paused.
How sometimes we people behave worse than animals. That little dog kept her promise to another. While we just walk on by. Every day, not seeing, not wanting to see.
Mary, calm yourself.
I cant! I shouted, my heart aching. I cant, because Im ashamed. Do you hear? Properly ashamed, for all of us.
I hung up, sank down beside the sleeping dogs, wrapped my arms around my knees and wept.
A week went by. Dotty grew strongerat first, she only lay still, nibbling her food, then tried standing, wobbling a bit but managing it, with Ginger so close she was almost her guide.
Your own little guide dog, Dotty, Id tell her. You couldnt ask for better.
Word spread fastthanks to Susan.
Did you hear about Mary? the other ladies muttered. Shes got two dogs. In her flat!
Yes, I know! The black one, half dead, chained up for months. The othershe fed her!
Unbelievable!
Im telling you, Susan saw it herself.
When I walked the dogs after that, people stopped to stare. Some smiled and nodded; others just shook their heads.
Youre a good soul, Mary, Jack told me one day. A real proper person.
Dont be silly, I waved him off. If anyones decent here, its Ginger. I just happened by and didnt keep going.
One evening, someone knocked. A young woman stood in the doorway.
Are you Mary?
I am. And you are?
My names Alice. I heard about your dogs, about what you did. I wondered if I could help. Im a vet. Perhaps I could have a look at Dotty? No charge.
I couldnt quite believe it.
For free?
Completely. Id like to help. She smiled shyly. May I?
Inside, Alice examined Dotty for nearly half an hour, then straightened up.
Shes old and poorly. She wont see again, Im afraid, but she can still have a good lifeif you keep looking after her.
How should I do that?
Alice pulled a prescription pad from her pocket. These are vitamins, these are for her joints, and this is ointment for her paws. Ill write it all down for you.
And how much do I owe you?
Nothing, she said, smiling. A giftfrom me and everyone whos heard your story.
Eyes burning again, I managed, Thank you.
No, thank you. Alice stroked Gingers head before leaving.
After shed gone, I sat quietly on the sofa. Dotty curled at my feet, Ginger beside her. For the first time in years, I felt truly needed, utterly essential.
And honestly, that was just about the happiest thing Id felt in a very long while.
