“Oi, Rufus, come here, boy!” William bolted from the car and dashed toward the old dog lying on the roadside. But Rufus didn’t stir, didn’t even wag his tail. The awful truth hit William like a punch—his dog was gone. “What am I gonna tell Mum now?” he thought, tears dripping onto Rufus’s grey muzzle as he crouched over him.
***
Valerie’s old dog had taken an instant dislike to William’s wife, Emma. From their very first meeting, he’d growled low in his throat whenever she walked past, thumping his tail irritably against the porch boards. Emma was wary of him—quietly despising the mutt.
“Ugh, useless old thing. If it were up to me, he’d have been put down ages ago!” she’d mutter under her breath.
“Em, love, don’t say that! Maybe he doesn’t like your perfume, or it’s the click of your heels. He’s an old boy—gets cranky, like all granddads do,” William would soothe her, though Valerie just watched disapprovingly. If that prissy girl only knew how much Rufus had done for their family—far more than she ever had.
***
Valerie never interfered in her son’s life. Not even when he introduced Emma. She’d bitten her tongue, though something about the girl felt… off. Too polished, like a smile without warmth.
“So, Mum, what d’you think of Em? Stunner, eh?” William had grinned.
“You’re the one marrying her, love. So long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters,” Valerie had replied, hugging him tight.
After the wedding, the couple settled in Emma’s flat—inherited from her nan. William rarely made it back to the village these days, though he missed it. Emma hated going—preferred spa weekends to country air, and arguing wasn’t worth it. But this summer, out of nowhere, she’d decided they should try “eco-tourism.”
“Read online it’s brilliant for stress—so detoxing! Plus, it’s trendy. Course, those posh retreats cost a fortune… Which is why I thought of your mum’s place,” she’d said, packing her designer wellies.
William was thrilled. If playing at “eco-tourists” got him home, he’d roll with it. His job was remote, so they set off days later.
Valerie beamed when they arrived. “About time! Fresh air’ll do you good—better than those package holidays.”
Emma wrinkled her nose. “I wouldn’t go *that* far. So, Valerie, d’you keep livestock? Proper rural immersion’s the whole point.”
Valerie blinked. “Well, there’s Rufus and a dozen hens. Had a goat, bless her, but she passed last year.”
Emma eyed the old dog sunning himself on the porch and scoffed. “I meant *useful* animals. Not some geriatric mutt. Surprised he’s still kicking, honestly.”
Valerie’s smile tightened. “Got a big veg patch, though—enough work to immerse yourself proper!”
“We’ll start tomorrow,” William cut in. “I’ll chop wood, fix what needs fixing. For now, let’s turn in.”
As Emma teetered up the porch steps, Rufus lifted his head with a warning growl. She yelped, hiding behind William.
“Oi, Rufus, don’t take it personal,” William chuckled, ruffling his ears. The tail thumped—happy to see his boy.
***
Next morning, Valerie showed Emma the “estate.”
“Hens here, apple trees there. And the veg patch—needs weeding.”
Emma was hopeless. Every green thing looked the same.
“See? Carrots here, weeds there. Yank ’em!” Valerie coached.
“*I’ve* seen dandelions! Not a bloody botanist,” Emma snapped, sweating through her designer athleisure. An hour in, her manicure was ruined, her back screaming.
“That’s *enough* eco-crap. More like slave labour!”
Valerie sighed. “Was gonna show you the hens next—”
“*Tomorrow.*” Limping inside, Emma froze—Rufus barred the door, teeth bared. She sidestepped him, seething.
“That *beast* *hates* me! What if he bites?!” she hissed to William that evening.
“Rufus? Never bitten a soul! Just showing he’s still got it. You *wounded* him.”
“Should I *apologise*?!”
“Wouldn’t hurt.”
Emma rolled her eyes.
Later, Valerie tried mediating. “Just pet him, love. He’ll warm up.”
“Why on earth would I *care* what that mutt thinks? He’s a *dog*!”
Valerie sighed. Rufus always knew bad eggs.
***
One sleepless night, Emma wandered into the garden, mesmerised by the stars. Then—rustling. A snarl. She *bolted*, shrieking as she tumbled into… nettles.
William found her flailing in the ditch, covered in angry red welts.
“What were you *doing*?!”
“That *demon* tried to *maul* me!”
“He was *guarding*! Could’ve been a fox!”
Emma seethed. Next day, she paid a local bloke to “take Rufus far enough he won’t *find* his way back.”
***
“Will, have you seen Rufus?” Valerie’s voice trembled as they searched the village.
By sunset, no sign. Valerie collapsed on the porch, sobbing.
“Why the fuss? He was ancient—probably wandered off to die. Get a new one,” Emma said.
Valerie’s tears fell harder. “He wasn’t *just* a dog. If not for him… Will, lift your shirt. Remember these scars?”
“From a childhood burn, you said…”
“That ‘burn’ was a *fire*. You were five—I was at work, your gran minding you. Rufus dragged you out, unconscious. The beam got you *here*.” She touched his temple. “Never saved Gran in time. *I* remember.”
William paled. “I… forgot.”
Emma scoffed internally. *Sentimental drivel.*
William cornered her later. “Tell me what you did. *Now.*”
Under his glare, she cracked.
William stormed to the bloke’s cottage, handed over cash, and followed his tractor down backroads until—
“Rufus! *Come on, boy!*” He sprinted to the motionless lump on the verge.
No response.
“Tough old boy—walked *miles* from where I dropped ’im,” the driver said.
William carried Rufus’s body home. Valerie’s wail shattered the quiet as he laid him on the porch.
They buried him under the apple tree. Emma left hours earlier, baffled. “It’s a *dog*!”
Silent, William packed her bags and drove her to the station.
“You’re *leaving* me here?!”
He just looked at her.
“I’ll come back when I’m ready. *If* I do.”
***
By summer’s end, William filed for divorce—Emma had already moved on. Before returning to the village, he stopped at a rescue centre.
“Sure about this pup? He’ll be *big*—not a flat dog,” the woman cautioned.
“Absolutely. He’ll have fields, a cosy home, and a sunny porch to laze on.” William lifted the squirming pup. “What d’you say, Rufus?”
A sloppy lick sealed the deal.
