Granddad, look! Emily pressed her nose to the window. A dog!
A scruffy mutt scrambled past the gate black, filthy, ribs jutting out.
That blasted mongrel again, muttered Arthur Whitaker, pulling on his old rubber boots. Its been prowling for three days now. Get out of here!
He swung his stick. The dog jumped back but didnt bolt, standing a few metres away and simply staring.
Granddad, dont chase it! Emily grabbed his sleeve. Its probably cold and hungry!
My own worries are enough, the old man snapped. It could be carrying fleas or disease. Off with it!
The dog tucked its tail and trotted off, but as soon as Arthur disappeared through the door it turned back
Emily had been living with her grandfather for six months since her parents were killed in a car crash. Arthur had taken her in, though hed never been much of a family man. He liked the quiet, his routine, his solitude.
Now a little girl who wept at night kept asking, Granddad, when will Mum and Dad come back?
How could he explain that they never would? He merely grunted and turned away. It was hard on both of them, but there was nowhere else to go.
After lunch, while Arthur napped in front of the telly, Emily slipped out to the garden, a bowl of leftover soup in her hand.
Come here, Betsy, she whispered. Thats what Ill call you. Nice name, isnt it?
The dog crept forward cautiously, lapped the bowl clean, then lay down, head on its paws, watching her with loyal eyes.
Youre a good girl, Emily cooed. Very good.
From that day on Betsy never left the yard. She guarded the gate, escorted Emily to school, and waited for her return. Whenever Arthur stepped outside, hed shout across the lane:
Not you again! How many times must I say
But Betsy had learned: the man barked, but he didnt bite.
Neighbour Sam Hargreaves, leaning on his fence, watched the scene and said one day, Arthur, youre wasting your breath on her.
What for? I need a dog like a toothache! Arthur retorted.
Perhaps, Sam began, God sent her to you for a reason.
Arthur only snorted.
A week passed. Betsy stayed at the gate in rain or frost. Emily, in secret, still slipped food to her, while Arthur pretended not to notice.
Granddad, can we let Betsy into the shed? Itll be warmer, she begged at dinner.
Never! the old man thumped his fist on the table. Theres no room for animals inside.
But she
No buts! he barked. Enough of your tantrums!
Emily pouted and fell silent. That night Arthur lay awake, staring at the window. He thought, Soon shell be nothing but a soul to the Almighty, or whatever. The thought made his stomach churn.
On Saturday Emily went skating on the frozen pond, with Betsy trotting behind her. Emily twirled and shouted, Watch this!
The ice cracked, then gave way. Emily slipped beneath the black, icy water, thrashing and screaming as the cold pulled her down.
Betsy froze for a heartbeat, then bolted toward the house.
Arthur was chopping wood when he heard a wild yelp. He looked up to see the dog darting across the yard, snapping at his trousers, pulling him toward the gate.
Whats the matter with you? he grunted, bewildered.
Betsy kept lunging, teeth flashing, urgency in her eyes. Suddenly Arthur shouted, Emily! and scrambled after her.
He saw a dark blot on the ice and heard faint splashes.
Hold on! he yelled, grabbing a long pole. He slipped on the cracking surface, his boots giving way, but managed to claw at Emilys coat and haul her to the shore. Betsy barked all the while, encouraging them.
Emily emerged shivering, her face blue. Arthur patted her with snow, blew on her cheeks, and muttered prayers under his breath.
Granddad, she whispered hoarsely, Betsy, wheres Betsy?
The dog sat beside them, trembling from the chill and fear.
Shes here, Arthur croaked. Right here.
After that rescue Arthurs tone softened. He no longer shouted at Betsy, though he still kept her outside.
Granddad, why? Emily pressed. She saved my life!
Saved, saved. Theres still no room for her, he snapped.
Why not? she asked.
Because thats how Ive always run things, he growled.
He felt a strange knot in his chest, as if something were clawing at him, but he brushed it off. Order, he told himself, was order.
Sam stopped by for tea, and they sat at the kitchen table munching ginger biscuits.
Did you hear what happened? Sam asked gently.
Did I? Arthur muttered.
Good dog, brave.
Sometimes.
You ought to look after her.
Arthur shrugged. Well look. We dont chase her away.
Now youre not chasing her. Where does she sleep at night?
Outside, of course. Is she a dog or not?
Sam shook his head. Youre odd, Arthur. You saved the girls life and now you act like a miser.
I’m not indebted to that mutt! Arthur snapped. We feed her, we dont beat herenough!
Indebted or not, whats the proper way?
The proper way is to love people, not a bunch of fur.
Sam fell silent, realizing the futility of arguing, but his eyes held a lingering reproach.
Winter grew harsher, snow piling up to waist height each morning. Arthur spent the whole day shovelling paths, while Betsy kept watch at the gate, thin as a skeleton, her coat matted, eyes dull but unyielding.
Granddad, Emily tugged his sleeve, look at her. Shes barely alive.
She chose to stay, he shrugged. No one forced her.
But she
Enough! he thundered. How many times must I hear the same thing? Im fed up with that dog!
Emily fell silent, her lips pursed. That evening, as Arthur read the paper, she whispered, Betsy didnt show up today.
And so? he grunted without looking up.
Shes been gone all day. Maybe shes ill?
Maybe shes finally gone. Thats where she belongs.
Granddad! How can you say that?
How else? he set the paper down, staring at her. She isnt ours. Shes a stray. We owe her nothing.
We do owe her, Emily said softly. She saved me, yet we gave her no warm place.
Theres no room! Arthur slammed his fist on the table. This isnt a zoo!
Emily hiccuped and retreated to her room. Arthur remained at the table, his appetite for the paper gone.
That night a blizzard battered the cottage; wind howled through the cracks, panes rattled, and snow hammered the windows. Arthur tossed in bed, unable to sleep.
Dog weather, he muttered, berating himself. What does it matter? Its not my problem. Yet deep down he knew it mattered.
By morning the storm had eased. He brewed a cup of tea, peered out. The yard was buried up to the windows, the path vanished, a lone bench stood exposed. At the gate something dark glimmered in the drifts.
Probably rubbish, he thought, but his heart sank.
He donned his coat, slipped on his boots, and trudged out. Snow kneedeep crunched under his feet as he reached the gate and froze.
There, half buried, lay Betsy, motionless. Snow covered her from head to tail, only her ears and the tip of her tail peeking out.
Right, thats the end of her, he muttered, feeling a crack inside him.
He brushed the snow away. The dog breathed feebly, a rasping sound, eyes shut.
Ah, you fool, he whispered. Why didnt you run?
Betsy shivered at his voice, tried to lift her head but couldnt.
Arthur hesitated, then gently lifted her in his arms. She was light, mostly bone and fur, but still warm.
Hang on, he muttered, carrying her back inside. He set her in the loft, then on an old blanket by the stove.
Granddad? Emily appeared in her nightgown at the door. Whats happened?
She froze out there, he said, sighing. Shell warm up now.
Emily rushed over. Is she alive? Granddad, is she alive?
Shes alive, alive, he answered. Get her some milk, warm it up.
Emily hurried to the kitchen, filled a bowl, and poured warm milk for the trembling dog.
Arthur sat beside Betsy, rubbing her head, thinking, What kind of man have I become? I nearly let her die, and yet she still believes in me.
Betsy lifted her head, lapped the milk, then took another sip. Arthur and Emily watched her drink, marveling at the tiny miracle.
By afternoon she was sitting up, and by evening she was shuffling around the kitchen on trembling legs. Arthur would glance at her now and then, grumbling, Thats only temporary. Shell get stronger and then
Emily just smiled, noticing how Arthur slipped the best cuts of meat to her when no one was looking, how he tucked a warmer blanket over her, how he patted her head, hoping nobody saw.
She wont run away, Emily thought. She wont ever again.
The next morning Arthur rose early. Betsy lay on the rug by the stove, watching him intently.
Well, youre back to life? he muttered, pulling on his trousers.
The dog wagged her tail cautiously, as if testing the floor.
After breakfast Arthur threw on his coat and stepped outside. He walked along the fence, glanced at the old shed at the back of the gardenan abandoned outbuilding that hadnt been lived in for years.
Betsy! he called. Come here!
Emily darted out, with Betsy trotting close behind. She stayed close to Emily, ignoring Arthur.
He pointed at the dilapidated shed. The roofs rotted, the walls are crumbling. We ought to fix it.
Why, Granddad? Emily asked.
Because its empty and useless, he replied gruffly. It needs sorting out.
He hauled boards, a hammer, and nails from the shed, beginning a clumsy repairnails bent, boards wrong size. Betsy sat nearby, watching, seeming to understand why he was working.
By noon the shed had a new roof. Arthur brought in an old blanket, laid it inside, set out bowls for water and food.
There, he said, wiping his brow. All done.
Granddad, is that for Betsy? Emily whispered.
For who else? Arthur snapped. She cant stay inside the house; she lives outside like a proper dog.
Emily threw her arms around him. Thank you, Granddad! Thank you!
Fine, fine, he muttered, waving her off. Dont get soft. Its only temporary until we find her a proper home.
At that moment Sam popped over, eyed the refurbished shed, the dog, and Emilys grateful smile.
See, Arthur? I told you she wasnt sent here for nothing, Sam said.
Keep your God out of it, Arthur grumbled. Its just a big mess now.
Sure, a mess, Sam agreed. Your hearts good, you just keep it hidden.
Arthur wanted to argue but said nothing, watching Betsy sniff her new quarters, Emily patting her head. He realised they had become a familyimperfect, perhaps odd, but a family nonetheless.
Alright, Betsy, he whispered. This is your home now.
The dog met his gaze, then curled up beside the shed, keeping an eye on the house where her people lived.
