Oleg’s Winter Walk Home: How a Stray Ginger Dog Transformed a Lonely Man’s Life, Survived an Acciden…

Oliver was walking home from work through the chilly dusk of a typical English winters evening. Everything around seemed shrouded in a veil of monotony. As he passed by the local Sainsburys, he noticed a dog sitting outsidea scruffy, ginger mongrel with eyes as forlorn as a lost child.

What are you doing here, then? Oliver grumbled, slowing his pace.

The dog lifted her head, gazing at him. She did not beg. She simply watched, silent and steady.

Shes probably waiting for her owner, Oliver thought, and continued on his way.

But the next day, the sight was the same. And the day after that. It was as if the dog had become fixed to that spot. Oliver soon began to notice: people passed by, some tossed her bits of sandwich, others a stray sausage roll.

Why are you hanging about here, girl? he asked one afternoon, crouching beside her. Where are your people?

This time, the dog edged closer, cautiously, and gently rested her head on his knee.

Oliver froze. When had he last petted someone? It had been three years since his divorce. His flat was empty. Just work, the television, and the fridge for company.

There, there, Poppy, he murmured, surprised by the name that popped into his head.

The next day, he brought her some proper sausages.

A week later, he posted an advert online: Found dog near Sainsburys. Owner sought.

No one rang.

A month rolled by. Oliver finished a night shifthe was an engineer often stuck onsite for entire daysand spotted a crowd gathered near the shop.

Whats happened? he asked Mrs. Bennett from next door.

Its that dog. Hit by a car. The one thats been here for ages.

His heart dropped.

Where is she?

They took her to the vetthe clinic on Wellington Road. But theyre asking for a fortune Whos going to pay for a stray?

Oliver did not reply. He simply turned and ran.

At the clinic, the vet shook his head. Broken bones, internal bleeding. Treatment will be costly. To be honest, her chances arent great.

Treat her, said Oliver. Whatever it costs, Ill pay.

When she was discharged, he took her home.

For the first time in three years, his flat was alive again.

Life shifted. Fundamentally.

Oliver no longer woke to the alarm, but to Poppys damp nose nudging his hand. As if to say, Time to get up, master. He would rise, smiling.

Mornings, once defined by coffee and the radio, began with a walk in the park.

Come on, girl, time for some fresh air, hed say, and Poppy would wag her tail with joy.

At the vets, he made sure all paperwork was donepassport, vaccinations. She was now officially his dog. Oliver even photographed each certificatefor good measure.

His colleagues were taken aback.

Oliver, you look years younger! So upbeat lately.

And it was truehe felt needed, for the first time in ages.

Poppy was clever, uncannily so. She understood half-spoken words. If he was late from work, she greeted him at the door with a glance that said, I was worried.

Evenings, they would stroll in the local gardens. For hours. Oliver would talk to her about work, about life. Was it odd? Perhaps. But Poppy listened, attentive, responding with an occasional quiet whine.

You know, PoppyI once thought life was easier alone. No hassle, no one to upset. But, truth is he would scratch her head, truth is, I was just scared to love someone again.

Neighbours grew used to their walks. Mrs. Bennett from next door always brought a bone.

Thats a lovely dog, shed say. Its plain to see shes adored.

Months passed. Oliver even pondered starting a social media page for Poppyshe was stunning in photos, her ginger coat shining gold in the sunlight.

And then, unexpectedly, everything changed.

One ordinary evening in the park, Poppy sniffed at the hedges while Oliver sat on a bench, lost in his phone.

Maisie! Maisie! a voice called out.

Oliver looked up. A well-groomed blonde woman in her mid-thirties strode towards them in an expensive tracksuit. Poppy flattened her ears, wary.

Excuse me, Oliver said, you must be mistaken. This is my dog.

The woman planted her hands on her hips. Your dog? Im not blindI know my Maisie! She ran off six months ago. Ive been looking everywhere!

What?

Yes! She bolted from my doorstep. I looked for weeks! Clearly, youve stolen her!

Olivers world spun.

Hold on. How did you lose her? I picked her up by Sainsburysshed been there over a month!

And why was she there? Because she was lost! I absolutely adore her! My husband and I bought her speciallyshes pedigree!

Pedigree? Oliver looked at Poppy. Shes a mongrel.

Shes a crossbreed! A very pricey one!

Oliver stood up. Poppy pressed herself against his legs.

All right. If this is your dog, show me some paperwork.

What paperwork?

Her pet passport. Vaccine certificates. Anything at all.

The woman faltered. Theyre at home. But thats beside the point! I know my own dog! Maisie, come here!

Poppy didnt budge.

Maisie! Come, now!

The dog only pressed closer to Oliver.

See? he said quietly, she doesnt know you.

Shes just sulking because I lost her! But shes my dog, and I demand her return!

Ive got all her documents, Oliver replied calmly. Clinic records, passport, receipts for food and toys.

I dont care about your papers! This is theft!

People stopped and glanced over.

Shall we settle this properly? Oliver took out his phone. Ill ring the police.

Go on then! she snapped. Ill prove shes my dog. Ive witnesses!

What witnesses?

The neighbours saw her run off!

With trembling hands, Oliver dialed. What if she was right? What if Poppy really had run away from her?

But why had she waited at the shop so long? Why not hunt for home? And why was she trembling at Olivers side?

Hello, police? I need some help with a situation

The woman sneered. Youll see. Justice will be done. Give me back my dog!

All the while, Poppy clung to Oliver.

At that moment, he understoodhe would fight for her. No matter what.

Because in these months, Poppy had become much more than a dog.

She was his family.

The community policeman, Sergeant Mitchell, arrived half an hour laterplacid, with a notepad. Oliver recognised him from the property managers meetings.

All right, lets have the story, the sergeant said, pen poised.

The woman launched into an agitated explanation. Thats my dog! Maisie! We paid £2,000 for her! She ran away half a year ago, I searched everywhere! He must have nicked her!

I didnt steal her, Oliver answered calmly. I found her starving near the supermarket. She stayed there for ages.

She was there because she was lost!

Mitchell regarded Poppy, who still pressed herself against Oliver.

Anyone got documents?

I do, said Oliver, producing a folder. By luck, hed forgotten to take out the vet papers after their last visit.

Heres her vet bill, when she was injured by a car. Heres the pet passport. All the jabs. Everything in order.

The sergeant thumbed through the paperwork.

What about you? he asked the woman.

Theyre at home! But thats irrelevant! Shes my Maisie!

Tell me exactly how she went missing, Sergeant Mitchell said.

Well, we were in the park. She slipped her collar and ran. I searched for weeks. Put up flyers.

Which park?

Greenhill Park. Not far.

And where do you live?

On Wellington Road.

Oliver shuddered. Wait. Thats two miles from where I found her. If she ran off in the park, how did she end up there?

She must have wandered! Got lost!

Dogs normally find their way home.

The woman turned red. What would you know about dogs?

I know this, Oliver said quietly. A loved dog does not sit hungry outside a shop for weeks. She would be looking for her owner.

Can I ask, broke in the sergeant, did you report her missing to the police?

The police? No the thought never crossed my mind.

Not in six months? Your £2,000 dog goes missing and you dont call the station?

I assumed shed turn up eventually!

The Sergeants brow darkened. Madam, your passport, please, and your address.

The womans hands shook as she passed him the ID.

Right. You do live on Wellington Road, number twenty-five. Flat number?

Seventeen.

All right. Now, the date she went missing. The exact date, please.

Umtwentieth of January. Or the twenty-first, maybe.

Oliver checked his phone. I picked her up on the twenty-third of January. And shed already been there nearly a month.

So the dog must have gone missing even earlier.

Maybe I mixed up the date! she stammered.

And suddenly, she broke down.

Fine! Fine, let her stay with you! But I did love her, you know!

Silence followed.

How did it come to this? Oliver asked softly.

My husband said we had to move, and the landlord wouldn’t take dogs. Couldnt sell hershes not pedigree, is she? So I left her by the shop, thinking someone good would take her in.

Oliver felt hollow inside.

You abandoned her?

I left her, thats all! Not abandoned! I thought someone would help.

So why do you want her back now?

Tears ran down her cheeks. My husband and I split up. Hes gone, Im alone. I miss Maisie. I did love her!

Oliver shook his head, finding it hard to believe.

Love her? Truly loved ones are never discarded.

Sergeant Mitchell closed his notepad. Its clear. Legally, the dog belongs to MrRose. He peeked at Olivers ID. He treated her, registered her, cared for her. There’s no dispute now.

But I changed my mind! I want her back!

Its too late for that, the sergeant replied. You gave her up.

Oliver knelt beside Poppy, putting his arms around her.

All right now, girl. Alls well.

May I just…pet her? Please? One last time? the woman asked.

Oliver glanced at Poppy. She flinched, pushing herself beneath his arm.

See? Shes frightened of you.

It wasnt on purpose. It was just…circumstances.

You know, said Oliver, standing up, circumstances dont create themselves. People do. You left a living soul to fend for herself, and now you’d change your mind when it suits.

She wept quietly. I know. But I am so lonely.

How do you think she felt, waiting for you all that time?

No answer.

Maisie, the woman whispered one last time.

The dog didnt stir.

Finally, the woman turned and hurried away, never looking back.

Sergeant Mitchell patted Olivers shoulder. Good choice. Its plain she belongs with you.

Thank you. For understanding.

No problem. Dog lover myself. I know how it is.

When the policeman left, Oliver and Poppy remained together in the fading daylight.

Come on, girl, he said, stroking her head. No one is ever going to part us again. Thats a promise.

Poppy gazed up at him with adorationmore than gratitude, it was absolute, boundless love.

Shall we go home?

She barked joyfully and zipped at his side.

On their way back, Oliver found himself thinkingperhaps the woman had been right in one thing. Circumstances can change: jobs, homes, money come and go. But some thingsresponsibility, love, kindnesscant be lost.

Back home, Poppy curled up on her favourite rug. Oliver brewed strong tea and sat beside her.

You know, Poppy, he said thoughtfully, maybe things have worked out for the best. Now we know for surewe really do need each other.

Poppy gave a contented sigh.