13May
I got home later than Id ever thought I would. I turned the key, slipped inside and let the door click shut. I didnt announce my arrivalno Mum, Im back! as I usually do. Emily, my mother, stared at me, a little puzzled by the silence and the fact I hadnt taken off my boots or my winter coat. The hallway was quiet, no clatter of shoes, no rustle of my jacket.
Tom, is that you? Ive bought the herring, the potatoes are almost done, well be eating soon, she called from the kitchen.
Only silence answered.
Tom?
She grabbed a kitchen towel, dried her hands, and stepped into the hallway. The moment she saw me, she knew something was wrong. I was slumped, my shoulders hunched, my eyes dull. When I met her gaze, I could see the worry flooding her face. She seized my collar and looked at me sharply.
Did you get into a fight? Were you hurt?
MMum Mum there I choked, tears threatening.
Tell me, dont be scared!
Mom, theres a dog in the rubbish skip. Its injured. The skip isnt a normal one; its like a hole under the building. I tried to help, but it snarled. It cant get up, Mum, and its freezing out there. Trash is piled on top of it.
Emily exhaled slowly, relieved that I was otherwise alright.
Where is it? Near our house?
No, on the other side of town, on the way to school. Can we go? It needs help.
Did you ask any grownups?
I did. Nobody wanted to. Everyone just brushed me off, I said, lowering my eyes.
Listen, Tom. Its already dark. Take off your coat, get warm. Maybe the dog is just tired and lying down.
It cant stand up.
You might be imagining things in the gloom. Lets wait until morning. If its still there, well call the fire service or the police, okay? Your hands are freezing, get undressed quickly!
I reluctantly unzipped my jacket.
Mum, what if it freezes to death before morning?
Its a dog, Tom. Im sure its a stray, used to the cold, with its own fur. Nothing will happen to it.
With those words I stripped off my layers and shuffled to the bathroom, running my chilled palms under hot water while my mind kept looping back to the dogs frightened, desperate eyes peering from that dark hole beneath the building. I remembered the animal: a scruffy, mixedbreed with reddish patches on its cheeks. How long had it been lying there? Why couldnt it get up? The more I replayed the scene, the heavier my stomach felt.
That evening, after school, my friend Jack and I slung our backpacks over our shoulders and headed out for a walk. The weather was unusually mild for Manchester, yet a bite of frost lingered and the snow clung stubbornly to the streets. We didnt want to head home straight away; we spent ages sledging down a small hill, pretending to be snowboarders. Eventually we chose a shortcut, cutting across the narrow, worn footpath alongside the row of houses. Something caught my eye in the dark opening of a rubbish chutetwo glinting eyes. At first I thought it was a cat. We crept closer and leaned in a dog.
Grab my legs, Ill try to pull it out! I shouted. I spread myself out at the edge of the chute and reached down, but the animal snarled at me.
Forget it, lets go. Its sleeping, Jack muttered.
Come here, pup! Come! Tttt! I coaxed, but it stayed motionless. Come to me, Ill help you, I kept pleading, while the dog whined softly. I switched on the flashlight on my phone and shone it down. The animal was covered in small bite marks, and a large wound gaped on its hind leg. I could not leave such a creature trapped.
For the next halfhour I begged passersbyyoung lads, older men, even a retired coupleto help the dog out. All of them waved me off. Even Jack walked away, hungry and late for dinner. Why are you bothering? they said. Leave it, itll get out when it wants.
The next morning I rose earlier than usual, catching my mother, Emily, still in her nightgown. She worked at the local nursery and had to be at the school by seven.
Check on him, will you? Hell probably have run off by now. Youre all dusty, didnt sleep well, right? she asked.
I sighed, gathered my courage and slipped out. Under the staircase, I remembered a box of kittens Id found a year agofour little ones wed treated for fleas, fed, and then placed with a caring family. Our home already has two cats and a dog, and we rescued a third cat from the road a few months back. Id even buried a dead pigeon beneath a park tree when I was ten. Whenever I saw an elderly neighbour struggling with a heavy grocery bag or a man trying to cross a busy road, I was there in an instant, never waiting for anyone else. Thats just who I am.
I sprinted to the rubbish chute, hoping the dog had somehow managed to get out. Instead, it was still there, huddled in the cold. My heart clenched. Mum, Im sending you a video. We have to do something; we cant just leave it.
Emilys first thought was to call the fire service. She promised to sort it out while I ran to my lessons. The fire service replied that they didnt handle animal rescues and suggested I contact the councils wastemanagement team. Their phone line was no help either. I kept calling, checking in each break.
Hello, Natasha? I dont know what to do, Emily said around lunchtime, dialing a friend. Tom found a dog, its
The friend suggested contacting an animal shelter. She found the details for Eleanor House and got a team of volunteers on the way. I had slipped out of my last class to be there, hoping a passerby would show some compassion.
When the volunteers arrived, a young woman dove into the chute with a blanket, the others steadying her. The dog whined, unable to bark. Lifting it was a struggle; its body was stuck to the metal frame, having urinated on itself in the freezing air.
Poor thing, youre so thin, a volunteer said gently, patting its head. Look at you, all bones.
They wrapped the animal in the blanket and set it down to catch its breath. I paced back and forth, my thoughts now turning to what would happen next.
Look at her, our rescuer! one of the volunteers laughed. Youre a hero, lad.
Just a bloke who did what anyone with a conscience would, I replied. Whats going to happen to her now? Shes got serious injuries.
The vet will see her. Looks like she was attacked by other dogs.
The vet later confirmed the leg wound was severe and the dog was badly chilled. After treatment, the shelter agreed to keep her temporarily, and Emily and I decided to foster her. I was nervouscould we manage another pet?
The local paper ran a story about the rescue, and reporters asked me why Id done it.
Its just what a decent person would do, I said. People have grown so indifferent that even a small act of kindness feels extraordinary. It makes me sad to see how callous the world has become.
When asked what Id like to change, I said, I wish people were kinder.
On future plans, I answered, I want to become a canine trainer, work with dogs, and volunteer. I still feel sorry for lonely old folks; Id like to help them too.
The dog, now named Jack after my friend, seems to be thriving.
Sit, Jack! Lie down! Crawl, you good lad, I coax, and he obeys, wagging his tail.
My heart still carries a wound, but its a wound that drives me to keep reaching out. As long as theres suffering, as long as cruelty and indifference linger, there will be animals and people who need a hand. I hope more hearts become like mine, bruised yet compassionate, until kindness truly rules the world.
For now, I send a warm embrace to everyone reading this. Thank you.
Tom Clarke, Manchester.
