Sometimes life throws up stories that make you think – it can’t be real. But it was.
A dog appeared in the courtyard of the block of flats on Church Street. Big, reddish with black patches. One ear torn, the back leg dragging.
People were scared straight away. Of course they were – a huge brute of a dog, and crippled on top of it. And crippled animals, everyone knows, are the most dangerous. That’s what the tenants thought.
“We need to ring the council,” said Auntie Margaret from the ground floor, adjusting her glasses. “Otherwise someone’ll get bitten.”
“Dead right,” agreed Uncle Bob from the fourth floor. “There’s kids all over the yard.”
So everybody started walking around the dog. As if it wasn’t lying quietly by the entrance, but growling and lunging. It was just lying there. And shivering. Even in the October sun it was shivering.
Alice noticed the dog on the first day. The girl always noticed what grown-ups passed by without seeing. Maybe because she often felt invisible herself. After her dad died the world had somehow turned different. Grey, like.
“Mum, what’s wrong with that dog?” she asked when she and her mother were coming back from the shops.
“What dog?” Irene didn’t even look towards the entrance.
“That one. Its paw hurting?”
Her mother finally saw. And instantly took her daughter’s hand tighter.
“Don’t go near it, Alice. It could be ill. Or vicious.”
“But it’s not vicious,” the girl said quietly. “It’s sad.”
Grown-ups never seem to tell the difference between sad and vicious. Especially with animals. Alice had noticed that long ago.
Days went by. The dog didn’t bother anyone. It lay by the wall, sometimes tried to get up – limped to the bins, nosed around. Found nothing, came back. And lay down again.
And the tenants kept talking.
“Soon it’ll get cold, and it’s still here.”
“Yesterday kids ran past, and it lifted its head. Gave them a fright.”
“Forget its head – it’s enormous!”
Alice watched from the window every day. Third floor – she could see everything.
“Mum, why won’t anyone help it?”
“Because it’s not our business, love.”
But Alice thought that problems were when you didn’t have money for new boots or when your tooth ached. This was just someone dying in front of everyone. And everybody pretended not to see.
On Saturday morning the girl woke early. Looked out – the dog was lying strangely. On its side. Not moving at all.
“Mum!” Alice ran to the kitchen. “The dog, it’s…”
“What is it?”
“I think it’s really bad.”
Irene came to the window. Looked. Yes – something was wrong.
“Probably sick,” Mum sighed. “Poor thing.”
“Then let’s help!”
“Alice, we can’t.”
“Why can’t we?”
Why indeed? Irene didn’t know. Just – you can’t, that’s all. They had enough worries of their own.
But at midday the dog tried to stand. And fell. Just fell sideways. Stayed lying there. Only breathing heavily – you could see its sides heaving.
Alice saw.
She put on her jacket. Took some sausage from the fridge. Mum was in the shower.
In the yard the dog lay with closed eyes. Up close it looked even bigger. And not scary at all. Just tired to death.
“Hello,” Alice said softly. “How’s it going?”
The dog opened its eyes. Looked at the girl. And in that look there was so much surprise – as if it thought people had forgotten how to talk to animals.
“I brought you some sausage. Want some?”
Alice held out her hand with the food. The dog sniffed but didn’t eat. Only licked the girl’s fingers. Its tongue was hot.
“You’re ill, aren’t you?” Alice stroked the red head gently. “And everyone’s scared of you. They think you’re mean. But you’re not.”
Then the dog did an amazing thing. It laid its head on Alice’s lap. A heavy, big head. And closed its eyes.
“Alice! Alice, get away from there right now!”
Her mother was running across the yard, waving her arms. Hair wet, dressing gown hanging open – she must have dashed straight from the shower.
“Are you mad? It could bite you!”
“Mum, it doesn’t bite. Look – it’s ill.”
Irene stopped three steps away. Watched her daughter sitting beside a huge dog and stroking its head. The dog lay perfectly still.
“Mum, remember how you told me about Dad? How as a kid he brought home every stray cat?”
Irene remembered. Her father-in-law used to tell – that’s what Jimmy was like. Soft-hearted to a fault.
“And you said that the worst thing is to walk past someone else’s pain.”
When had she said that? Oh, yes. After the funeral. When Alice asked why Dad used to visit strange old men in hospital. Read books to them.
“Mum, can we not walk past it?”
Irene looked at her daughter. And suddenly she saw Jimmy in her. That same boy who dragged cats home. Who could never walk past someone else’s trouble.
“Stand up slowly,” she said. “Carefully.”
But the dog seemed to understand. It lifted its head by itself, freeing the girl. Looked at Irene with an expression… as if it was saying: “I won’t hurt her. Honest.”
“It won’t eat,” Alice said. “I think it’s really sick.”
Irene stepped closer. Squatted down beside her. The dog didn’t growl, didn’t bare its teeth. Just looked. Bright, sad eyes.
“Your leg hurts?” Irene asked, and surprised herself by talking to the dog as if it were a child.
The dog seemed to nod.
“Right,” Mum sighed. “Let’s go and phone.”
Vet Smith came in half an hour.
“Fracture. Old one, set wrong. But treatable,” he said, examining the leg. “She’s a pedigree. German Shepherd. Got lost, I’d say.”
“And what’ll happen to her?” Alice asked.
“Well, if nobody claims her…”
“We will.”
Irene looked at her daughter. At the dog. At the red scarf tied round the leg.
When had her little girl grown so big?
A month later.
Daisy (that’s what Alice called her) slept on a rug by the girl’s bed. Her leg had healed. Her coat shone.
“Mum,” Alice said before sleep. “Why was everybody scared of her? She’s gentle.”
Irene stroked her daughter’s hair.
“You know. Sometimes people are afraid to be kind. Afraid they won’t be understood. Afraid of being judged.”
“Silly.”
“Yes. Silly.”
After tea I stood at the window.
Down in the yard Alice was playing with Daisy. The dog nuzzled the girl gently, playfully. And she laughed.
That day my daughter taught me not to be afraid.
Not to be afraid of kindness.
Not to be afraid to reach out to someone in need.
And from the courtyard came the sound of laughter.
And the bark of a big, good dog that had finally found a home.