Grandad, Look! — Lily’s Nose is Pressed Against the Window — It’s a Puppy!

Dear Diary,

Grandsoninlaw, look!Elsie pressed her nose to the window. A pooch! she cried.

Just beyond the gate a scruffy mongrel barreled pastblack, filthy, ribs jutting out.

That damned mutt again, I muttered, pulling my woollen socks tighter. Its been prowling these grounds three days straight. Off with it!

I swung my stick. The dog jumped back but didnt run. It sat a few metres away, staring. Just stared.

Granddad, dont chase her! Elsie clutched my sleeve. She must be hungry and cold!

I have enough worries on my own, I snapped. Shell bring fleas and disease. Away with her!

The dog tucked its tail and shuffled off. Yet as I disappeared through the back door, it turned and came back

Elsie had been living with me for half a year since her parents were killed in a crash. I took her in, though I never had much patience for children. I was used to quiet and my own routine.

And then there was a girl who wept at night, constantly asking, Granddad, when will Mum and Dad come back?

How do I tell her that they never will? I could only croak and turn away. It hurt us bothher and me. Yet there was nowhere to run.

After lunch, while I was dozing by the telly, Elsie slipped out into the garden, clutching a bowl of leftover soup.

Come here, Molly, she whispered, naming the dog for the first time. Nice name, isnt it?

The mutt crept forward, lapped the bowl clean, then lay down, head on its paws, looking at me with gratitude.

Youre a good girl, Elsie cooed, petting her. Very good.

From that day Molly never left the yard. She guarded the gate, escorted Elsie to school, and waited for her return. Whenever I stepped outside, Id shout, You again! How many times must I say

But Molly had learned: the man may bark, but he would not bite.

Our neighbour, Samuel Clarke, who often lingered by the fence, watched the whole circus and one day said, Arthur, youre wasting your breath on her.

What for? I need a dog like a toothache! I snapped.

Maybe, Samuel began, God sent her to you for a reason.

I only grunted.

A week passed. Molly kept her post in rain or frost. Elsie, as ever, slipped food to her, and I pretended not to notice.

Granddad, can we let Molly into the shed? Its warmer there, she begged at dinner.

No, never! I thumped my fist on the table. Theres no room for animals inside this house!

But she

No buts! Im done with your whims!

Elsie pouted and fell silent. That night I lay awake, staring at the window. My thoughts turned sour. Shell soon be taken by the Almightyor whatever, I mused, feeling a knot of disgust.

Saturday came, and Elsie went skating on the frozen pond. Molly trailed behind, watching from the bank. Elsie laughed, spun, and shouted, Watch me!

The ice cracked. A thin chime, then a sharp pop, and the surface gave way. Elsie plunged into black, icy water, pulled beneath the surface. She flailed, shouting, but the splash drowned her cries.

Molly froze for a heartbeat, then sprinted toward the house.

I was chopping wood when I heard a wild bark. I looked up to see her baring teeth, lunging at my trousers, pulling me toward the gate.

Are you mad? I shouted, bewildered.

She would not let go, snapping and yanking. In that frantic moment I realized the danger.

Elsie! I roared, racing after her.

Molly barreled ahead, glancing back as if checking my pace, then toward the pond again.

I spotted a dark blot on the ice and heard faint splashes.

Hold on! I yelled, gripping a long pole. Hold on, my little one!

I crawled on the cracking ice, pulled Elsies jacket, and hauled her onto the bank. Molly circled, barking encouragement.

When we got her out, she was blueskinned, shivering. I brushed the snow off her, blew warm air onto her face, and whispered prayers.

Granddad, she whispered hoarsely, Molly wheres Molly?

Molly sat beside us, trembling from cold or fear.

Shes here, I rasped. Right here.

After that rescue something shifted. I stopped shouting at the dog, though I still kept her out of the house.

Granddad, why? Elsie demanded. She saved me!

Saved? We still have no room for her, I replied, voice cracking. Thats how its always been.

I felt a strange anger at myself, as if a cat were clawing at my heart. Samuel stopped by for tea one afternoon, nibbling biscuits, and said, Heard about the girls rescue. Good dog, clever one.

Its just a dog, I muttered.

Its one to look after, Samuel replied.

The winter grew harsher, blowing snow into the windows, piling drifts up to my knees. I spent my mornings clearing paths, while Molly stayed at the gate, thin as a skeleton, fur matted, eyes dulled, yet still watching.

Granddad, Elsie tugged my sleeve, look at her. Shes barely alive.

She chose to stay, I said dismissively. No one forced her.

But she

Enough! I thundered. Im fed up with that dog!

Elsie fell silent, then later that night, while I read the paper, she whispered, Molly hasnt been seen today.

What of it? I grunted, not looking up.

Shes been gone all day. Maybe shes sick?

Maybe she finally left. Thats where she belongs.

Granddad! How can you say that?

Its the way it is, I said, setting the paper down. Shes not ours. Shes a stray.

She whispered, We owe her, she saved me. We didnt even give her a warm place.

No place! I slammed my fist on the table. This is not a zoo!

Elsie burst into tears and ran to her room. I sat alone, the newspaper now a weight on my lap.

A blizzard hit that night, rattling the house, shaking the panes, whipping snow against the windows. I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Dog weather, I thought, cursing myself. What difference does it make? Its not my business. Yet the difference was there, and I knew it.

Morning came, wind calmed. I brewed a cup of tea and looked out. The yard was buried under a white blanket; the path vanished, only a lone bench poked through. Near the gate something dark lingered in the drifts.

Probably rubbish, I told myself, but my heart sank.

I pulled on my coat, slipped on my socks, and trudged out. The snow was kneedeep. I reached the gate and froze.

There, halfburied, was Molly, motionless. Snow covered her up to the ears and the tip of her tail.

Right, thats the end for her, I muttered, feeling something snap inside me.

I brushed the snow away. She breathed shallowly, a weak wheeze, eyes closed.

Ah, you foolish thing, I whispered. Why didnt you run?

She shivered at my voice. I lifted her gently; she was as light as a handful of bones and fur, but still warm.

Hold on, I muttered, cradling her back inside. I placed her on the old rug by the fire.

Granddad? Elsie appeared in her nightgown at the door. What happened?

Its she froze out there. Lets get her warm, I replied, fumbling for words.

She rushed to the kitchen, filled a bowl with warm milk, and set it beside Molly.

Molly lifted her head feebly, lapped the milk, then another, then another. Elsie and I watched, amazed, as she drank.

By afternoon she was sitting up, by evening she was shuffling across the kitchen on trembling legs. I kept glancing at her, grumbling, Its only temporary, understand? Shell get stronger and thenoutside again.

Elsie just smiled, noticing how I slipped the best cuts of meat under her bowl when I thought no one was looking, how I tucked a blanket tighter around her.

Dont run away, she murmured, as if she knew the dogs thoughts. She wont.

The next morning I rose early. Molly lay on the rug by the hearth, watching me intently.

Well, are you alive yet? I grumbled, pulling on my trousers. She wagged her tail cautiously, testing whether I might chase her out again.

After breakfast I donned my coat and stepped outside. I walked along the fence, inspected the abandoned shepherds hut that had lain empty for ten years.

Elsie! Come here! I called. She sprinted out, Molly trotting close behind, staying near her but keeping her distance from me.

The roofs gone, the walls are rotting, I said, pointing. We should fix it.

Why, Granddad? Elsie asked.

Because a vacant place is a waste, I growled. I fetched boards, a hammer, nails, and set to work, swearing whenever a nail bent or a board didnt fit.

Molly sat nearby, watching, seeming to understand why I laboured.

By noon the hut had a fresh roof. I spread an old blanket inside, placed water and food bowls.

There, I said, wiping sweat from my brow. Done.

Granddad, is that for Molly? Elsie asked softly.

For whom else? I snapped. She cant stay inside the house, but she can have a proper shelter outside. Thats enough for a dog.

She threw her arms around me. Thank you, Granddad! Thank you!

I huffed, Dont get soft now. Remember, its only temporary until we find proper owners.

Samuel stopped by, eyeing the repaired hut and the contented dog. He smiled wryly, Told you the Lord sent her for a reason.

I grunted, Just my luck, Samuel. Its a big fuss.

He nodded, Your hearts good, just buried deep.

I stared at Molly sniffing her new home, Elsie patting her head, and felt a strange warmth. We were a family nowimperfect, perhaps odd, but a family.

Alright, Molly, I said quietly. This is your home now.

She looked at me long, then settled down beside the hut, keeping watch over the doorway where we lived.

Tonight, as I close this entry, I realise that stubborn pride kept me from kindness for far too long. The lesson Ive learned is simple: hard hearts may protect themselves, but they also lock out the very things that can heal them. Compassion, even for a stray dog, can bring warmth to a house that thought it was cold.