The Dog Had Almost Given Up, Ready to Leave This Cruel World Behind…

Ethel had lived for years in a tiny cottage on the very edge of the village of Brindleford. When people said she was lonely, she would smile and reply, Alone? Not a chancemy family is huge! The local women would nod kindly, but as soon as she turned away they exchanged glances and tapped a finger to their temple, as if to say, What family? No husband, no children, only animals. Yet it was precisely those four-legged and feathered companions that Ethel considered her kin. She cared little for the opinion of those who kept animals merely for utilitya cow for milk, a hen for eggs, a dog for guarding, a cat for catching mice. In Ethels home there were five cats and four dogs, all living indoors where it was warm, which puzzled the neighbours.

They kept their astonishment to themselves, knowing it was useless to argue with the eccentric lady. She simply laughed at every rebuke: Oh, nonsense, theyve had enough of the street, were all cosy at home.

Five years earlier her world had shattered in one day. While returning from a fishing trip, her husband and son were struck by a lorry that burst onto the road. After the tragedy, Ethel realised she could not stay in a house where every corner whispered of the lost. Walking the same lanes, entering familiar shops, meeting sympathetic neighbours became unbearable.

Six months later she sold the property and, with her cat Misty, moved to Brindleford, buying a modest house on the outskirts. In summer she tended a garden; in winter she took a job at the community centres canteen. Gradually more companions arrivedsome stray cats begging at the station, others dogs rummaging for scraps near the canteen. Thus her family of oncelonely, mistreated creatures grew. Ethels warm heart healed their old wounds, and they repaid her with loyalty and love.

She fed them all, even when it was hard. Knowing she couldnt adopt forever, she often vowed not to take another. Yet one March turned into a brutal February: frozen snow crusted the footpaths and a biting wind howled through the night.

That evening Ethel hurried for the last bus back to the village. With two days of weekend ahead, she had stopped in the shops after her shift, bought food for herself and her animals, and carried a parcel from the canteen. The heavy bags pulled at her arms, and she walked focused on getting home, trying not to be distracted. Suddenly, a few steps before the bus stop, she froze and turned.

Under a bench lay a dog, its eyes dull and glassy, its body dusted with snow. It had been there for at least an hour. Passersby wrapped in scarves walked past without stopping. Did nobody notice? she thought, a wave of panic tightening her chest. Forgetting the bus and her own promises, she dropped her bags and knelt beside the animal. Thank heavens youre still breathing, she whispered, reaching out. Come on, love, get up.

The dog didnt move, but it didnt resist as she gently lifted it from beneath the bench. It seemed as if the creature had already given up on this cruel world.

Ethel cant recall how she managed to lug the two heavy sacks and the shivering dog to the bus station. Inside the waiting hall she settled in a far corner, cradling the thin body, rubbing its frozen paws between her hands.

Come on, love, well pull through. We still have to get home, she murmured. Youll be our fifth dog, just to keep the numbers even.

From her bag she produced a meat patty and offered it to the chilled guest. At first the dog turned its snout away, but after a moment of warming, its eyes brightened, its nostrils quivered, and it took the food.

Within the hour Ethel was standing on the roadside with the dog shed named Millie, waving her hand to flag down a passing car, for the bus had long since departed. She fashioned a makeshift collar from her belt and led Millie beside her. Ten minutes later a driver pulled over.

Thank you ever so much! Ethel said. Dont worry, Ill hold the dog on my lap; she wont make a mess. The driver chuckled, She can sit on the seat, shes not a pup.

Millie, trembling, pressed close to Ethel, and together they settled on his lap. Much cozier, Ethel smiled.

The driver turned up the heater. They rode in quiet, Ethel watching the snowfall through the headlights, hugging her new companion, while the driver glanced at her tired but peaceful profile, guessing shed found a stray and was taking it home.

At the cottage the driver helped carry the bags. A heap of snow blocked the gate, forcing him to push it aside. The rusty hinges gave way and the gate fell sideways. Never mind, Ethel sighed, its about time it was fixed.

From inside came a cheerful bark and a meow, and Ethel hurried to the doorway. Her mixedbreed brood poured out onto the yard. Well, were you waiting for me? she said, introducing Millie, who peeked shyly from behind her legs.

The dogs wagged their tails, nosing the bags the driver still held. What are we doing out in the cold? Ethel laughed. Come inside if youre not scared of a big family. Tea, perhaps? The driver shook his head. Its late, thank you. Feed yourstheyll be missing you.

The next afternoon, as the sun rose higher, Ethel heard a knock on the gate. She slipped on her coat and opened the door to find the driver, tools in hand, repairing the hinges. Good day! he said with a grin. Im Victor, Im fixing the gate I broke. And you are? Ethel smiled.

Her tailwagging family surrounded the newcomer, sniffing and circling. Victor sat down to stroke them. Ethel, come inside, dont catch a chill. Ill be done shortly, and youre welcome for a cup of tea. Theres a slice of cake in the boot, and a few treats for your big family, he added.

Ethel realized then that kindness, once given, always finds its way backwhether in a warm hearth, a rescued dog, or a repaired gate. The world may be harsh, but compassion can stitch the torn pieces of life together, teaching us that a home is not defined by walls or blood, but by the love we share with those who need us most.