Grandad, look! Emily pressed her nose against the window. A dog!
Out by the garden gate, a scruffy black mongrel darted about. She looked filthy, ribs sharp against her skin.
That mutt again, grumbled George Wilson, tugging his wellies on. Shes been hanging about for three days now. Off with you! Go on!
He waved a stick. The dog jumped back but didnt bolt just sat about five yards away and watched. Just watched.
Dont chase her away, Grandad! Emily clung to his sleeve. She must be starving and freezing!
Ive got enough on my plate! the old man huffed, brushing her hand away. Shell bring in fleas and all sorts of nasties. Go on, clear off!
The dog tucked her tail and shuffled away. But once George slipped back indoors, she crept close again
Emily had lived with her grandfather for half a year now, ever since her parents died in a car crash. George took her in, though he never had much time for children. Hed grown fond of his quiet routines and now there was a girl who cried at night and asked again and again, Grandad, when will Mum and Dad be back?
How do you say never? All George could do was grunt and turn away. It was hard on them both, but there was nowhere else to go.
After lunch, while Grandad dozed in front of the telly, Emily slipped outside with a bowl of leftover stew.
Come here, Molly, she whispered, crouching down. Thats your name now. I think it suits you.
The dog crawled closer, licked the bowl completely clean, then curled up right there, her head on her paws, looking up at Emily in pure gratitude.
Youre a good girl, Emily said, stroking her gently. Such a good girl.
After that, Molly never left the gate. She kept watch, trotted with Emily to school, waited for her return. If George popped out, he barked across the garden, You again? Havent you had enough?
But Molly already knew this man just sounded cross; he wasnt dangerous.
The whole show amused their neighbour, Mr. Samuel Jenkins, as he pottered about his own garden. One day he called over, You know, George, you shouldnt chase her off.
Whys that, eh? I need a dog like I need a hole in the head!
Maybe, Samuel said, she didnt end up here by accident.
George only huffed and shook his head.
A week passed. Molly still curled up by the gate come rain, frost, or snow.
Emily still sneaked her bits of food, while George played blissfully ignorant.
Grandad, can Molly come inside the hallway? Shed be warmer there, Emily begged one night over dinner.
No and no again! George thumped the table. No animals in this house!
But she
No buts! Enough of your fussing!
Emily sulked and fell silent. That night, George found himself lying awake for ages. In the morning, he peered through the window.
Molly was curled into a tight ball on the snow. ‘She wont last much longer out there,’ George caught himself thinking, with a strange knot in his stomach he didnt want to examine.
On Saturday, Emily went skating at the pond. Molly, as always, trailed behind her. Emily laughed as she spun across the ice, with Molly watching anxiously from the bank.
See how fast I can go! Emily shouted, slicing across the pond.
The ice shivered, then cracked and suddenly, Emily plunged in.
Icy water pulled her down. Flailing, shouting, she tried to break free, but the water muffled every sound.
For a heartbeat, Molly froze then turned and bolted for home.
George was chopping wood when he heard that desperate barking wild, shrill. He turned to see Molly racing through the garden, whining, tugging at his trouser leg, desperate to drag him towards the gate.
Whats the matter with you, mad thing?
But Molly was frantic, nipping at his clothes, eyes wild. Suddenly, it clicked for George.
Emily! he yelled, running after Molly.
She shot ahead, pausing to check he was behind her, then racing back towards the pond.
He saw the dark patch on the ice, heard weak splashing.
Hold on! he cried, grabbing a long pole. Hold on, love!
He shuffled onto the creaking ice, stretching out the pole. The ice groaned, but held. He managed to grab Emilys jacket, drag her out, with Molly barking and yelping the whole time, as if cheering them on.
When he pulled her onto the bank, Emily was blue as the sky. George rubbed her with snow, blew into her face, and prayed under his breath.
Grandad Emily finally whispered, Wheres Molly?
Through the window, they could see the dog, still trembling whether from the cold or her own terror, who could say.
Shes here, George managed, voice rough. Shes right here.
Something changed after that. George stopped raising his voice at Molly. Still, she was not allowed inside.
Grandad, cant she come in, just this once? Emily insisted. She saved my life!
She saved you, all right, but theres still nowhere for her, George growled.
Why not?
Thats just how it is round here!
He was cross with himself. For what? He couldnt say. It was the right thing rules are rules. But his conscience nagged at him all the same.
Later, Samuel popped in for a cuppa and a ginger biscuit.
Did you hear about what happened? Samuel ventured gently.
I heard. George muttered.
Good dog. Smart one.
Suppose so.
You ought to look after her.
George shrugged. Look after her? Shes not chased away, is she?
Not any more. But where does she sleep on a night like this?
Outdoors. Shes a dog, isnt she?
Samuel shook his head. Funny, George. Girls alive thanks to her, yet you Its called ingratitude, you know.
I dont owe that mutt a thing! George snapped. We fed her, never beat her what more does she want?
You can argue about debts all day, but what about being decent?
Decencys for people, not every stray with fur!
Samuel fell silent. There was no point arguing, but he did give George a reproachful look.
February came with a vengeance blizzards day after day, winter showing whos boss.
George barely kept the paths clear before the snow buried them again overnight.
And Molly, still by the gate, had grown thin as a rake, fur knotted, eyes dull but she wouldnt leave. Still guarding.
Grandad, Emily tugged his sleeve again, look at her shes barely alive.
She chose to stay there herself, George muttered. Nobody asked her to.
But
Thats enough! Havent you gone on about that dog long enough?
Emily retreated to her room in tears. That evening, as George read the paper, Emily said quietly: Molly wasnt there today. Not at all.
So? George muttered, eyes fixed on the print.
All day. Maybe shes ill?
Maybe she finally went on her way. Good riddance.
Grandad! Emily gasped. How can you even say that?
What else am I supposed to say? He put down the paper and met her gaze. Shes not ours! Do you understand? We owe her nothing!
We do, Emily replied softly. She saved me. We havent even given her a warm spot.
Theres nowhere for her! This house is not a petting zoo!
Emily bit back a sob and shut herself in her room. George sat at the table with the paper, but couldnt read a single line.
A gale blew up that night, shaking the whole house. The wind howled down the chimney, windows rattled, sleet lashed at the glass. George tossed and turned, wide awake.
Proper dog weather, he thought. Then, scolded himself: Why should I care? Not my problem! But he knew it was, somehow.
Come morning, the storm had blown over. George brewed himself a cup of tea and stared out the window. The whole garden was drifted up with snow, the bench vanished, and by the gate
Something black poked through the drift. Probably some rubbish thats blown in, George told himself, but his heart dropped.
He pulled on his coat and boots, trudged out through knee-deep snow to the gate.
There, buried in the drift, lay Molly. Still. The snow had nearly covered her, only her ears and tail stuck out.
Well, thats that, George thought somberly. Inside, something cracked.
He brushed the snow away. She was barely breathing, weak and rasping, eyes closed.
You silly old thing, George whispered, bending over. Why didnt you go off somewhere warm?
Molly shuddered at the sound of his voice, tried to lift her head, but hadnt the strength.
For a moment, George just stood there. Then, Oh, to hell with it, he muttered, and carefully gathered her up.
She was light as a feather only skin and bone, but warm. Still alive.
Come on, now, George mumbled as he carried her back. Hang on, silly girl.
He brought Molly into the hallway, then the kitchen, laying her gently on an old blanket by the cooker.
Grandad? Emily appeared in her pyjamas, rubbing her eyes. Whats happened?
Oh, just She was freezing outside, thought wed let her warm up for a bit, George faltered.
Emily dropped to her knees beside Molly. Shes alive? Grandad, shes really alive?
She is, she is. Pour her some milk. Warm milk.
Right away! Emily dashed to the stove.
George knelt by Molly, stroking her head, thinking, What sort of person am I? Almost finished her off. And still, she wouldnt leave. Still trusted me.
Molly blinked up at him, gratitude in her eyes, and George felt his throat tighten.
Milks ready! Emily set the bowl beside Molly.
With difficulty, the dog lapped from the bowl, then licked it clean. Grandad and granddaughter sat side by side, watching and smiling, as if witnessing a miracle.
By lunchtime, Molly was sitting up. By evening, she was tottering around the kitchen on wobbly legs. George kept an eye on her, muttering: Its only temporary! You hear me? Once youre back on your feet, its the garden for you!
Emily just smiled. She saw how Grandad slipped Molly the best cuts of meat when he thought no one was looking, tucked her in extra snug, patted her gently.
She wont send her away, Emily was sure. Not now.
Next morning, George woke early. Molly was curled on her blanket, eyes following his every move.
Well, youve perked up, he grumbled, pulling on his trousers. Thats more like it.
Molly wagged her tail, tentatively, as if checking: Is it really safe here now?
After breakfast, George put on his jacket and stepped out into the garden. He walked the fence, then eyed the old wooden kennel by the shed, long since unused.
Emily! he called. Come here a moment!
She dashed outside, Molly at her heels and this time, the dog didnt flatten herself or flinch away.
See here, he nodded at the kennel. Roofs gone to pot, walls rotting through. Ought to patch it up.
Why, Grandad? Emily frowned.
Why not? Cant leave things falling apart.
He fetched some planks, a hammer, and nails from the shed and started fixing the roof, grumbling when a nail bent or a board wouldnt fit.
Molly watched from a few feet away, head cocked as if already guessing who he was working for.
By lunchtime the kennel had a fresh roof. George laid an old blanket inside and set out water and food bowls next to the door.
There, he said, wiping his brow. Thats sorted.
Is it for Molly? Emily whispered.
Well, who else for? George grumbled. Not having her in the house, but she deserves a proper place outside.
Emily threw her arms round him. Thank you, Grandad. Thank you!
Oh, enough now, dont get weepy. And remember just while she needs somewhere. Until we find her proper owners.
But he knew, as did Emily, they wouldnt be looking. Molly belonged with them now.
Just then, Samuel wandered up, eyeing the fixed kennel, the dog, Emily beaming.
Well, George, didnt I tell you she turned up for a reason.
Dont start, George muttered. I just felt sorry for her. Thats all.
Of course you did, Samuel nodded. Youve a good heart, George, just keep it tucked away.
George wanted to argue, but left it. He watched Molly sniff her new home, Emily stroking her head, and realised somehow, they were a family now. Unusual, maybe, but a family all the same.
All right, Molly, he said softly. This is your home, too.
Molly looked up at him, eyes shining. Then she curled up by the kennel, always keeping the house in sight watching over her people.
