**The Puppy**
In a village, life unfolds in plain sight. Its hard to keep secrets hereat least, not for long.
Everyone knew everything about this couple. Theyd married by choice, a good matchboth tall, hardworking. Their tidy cottage, which theyd rebuilt themselves, and the garden, free of weeds and bursting with flowers all summer, spoke for them. The young wife was always kind, well-liked for never gossiping. Her husband, though, was quiet. But quiet men come in different sorts. Some are soft-hearted, just not talkative. He, however, was sternsometimes even cruel. It ran in his blood, inherited from his father and grandfather. Yet his hardness never touched his wife. He took on the hardest chores, drove to town without complaint to buy her new dresses, and never skimped. Best of all, he never joined the village men at the pub. At first, theyd invite himalways eager for drinking companybut hed simply say, «No, thanks,» and that was that. Never raised a hand to her, either. Some women envied her. Shed tried, early on, to advise the beaten wives to stand up for themselves, but they wouldnt listen. «Youre just lucky,» theyd say. The bitter ones muttered that her luck might not lastshe might yet find herself fleeing to the barn from her husbands fists. She never answered those jabs. It pained her to see women who let their husbands walk all over them.
But this couple had their own sorrow: four years married, and no children. Both healthy, yet still just the two of them.
Then one day, a neighbour begged them to take a puppy. Her spaniel had eight pups; seven were given away, and only the runt remained. Tiny, weak, but sweet-faced. «Take her,» the neighbour urged. «Youll fatten her up, train her. A little life to fill your cottage.» To the wifes surpriseshed been ready to say yes but feared her husbands refusalhe agreed. Thats how they got Daisy.
And then came the question: who doted on her more? He taught her commands, carried her inside when it rained. When she grew, he built her a kennelspacious, with a wooden floor. Trained her to sleep in it, though at night they let her roam, knowing shed always return.
Then, first the wife, then the husband noticed: Daisy was expecting. Thats when the mans true nature flared. He grew furiousno, he *hated* her. Chained her up. «If I catch you outside the yard,» he warned, «youre not coming back.»
The day came. Daisy whelped in her kennelfour pups, born in the night. They heard nothing. Only in the morning, when the husband went to refill her water, did he see them. He stormed inside. «Daisys turned the yard into a kennel,» he snapped. «Four of them.»
The wife gasped, thrilled. «She didnt make a sound! Let me see»
«See them before I drown them,» he said.
She froze. «Drown them? Puppies? What about Daisy? You think a dog doesnt feel a mothers love? Ill ask around the villagesomeone might want one»
But he was already outside. She followed. He hauled buckets from the well, filling a barrel. She crouched by the kennel, watching Daisy nuzzle her four tiny pups, and wept. Shed heard of drowning unwanted litters but had never seen such cruelty.
Knowing him, she knew she couldnt stop him. She went inside, shut the doors and windows, so she wouldnt see or hear.
Later, he came in. «They didnt feel a thing. Still blind. Buried them at the far end of the garden.»
She whispered, «Does Daisy know?»
«Dunno. Didnt ask. Shouldnt have let her roam. Locked her in the kennel.»
«Shes howling.»
«Shell stop. Maybe shell learn.»
Something in her broke then. Yes, villagers drowned litterskittens, puppiesoften enough. But why so brutally?
That day, she barely spoke to him. He kept up his gruff act: «Sentimental nonsense. Whod feed them? Clean up after them? Or does that not matter?»
Daisys eyes stayed wet with tears. Some might scoff at the idea of a dog crying, but the wife saw it. Felt the guilt. She noticed Daisy kept trotting to the gardens edge, sitting stock-still where the pups were buried.
Twice more, Daisy had litters. Twice more, the husband filled the barrel. Twice more, the pups drowned. Each time, Daisy was chained for weeks. The wife couldnt accept it. She began pulling awaynot planning to leave, but the bond between them frayed.
Then came the final cruelty. Daisy was expecting again, belly sagging, waddling. Autumn now; she barely left the kennel, cold and heavy. One morning, the husband took his shotgun, hauled Daisy to the pond, and shot her before she could whelp.
Their old neighbour, the one whod given them Daisy, witnessed it. Stood frozen, tears on her wrinkled cheeks. As he passed, she whispered, «What have you done, lad? Youve taken livesa mother and her unborn pups. Arent you afraid God might do the same to your own children?»
He glared but said nothing. Who was she to judge? Living hand-to-mouth, yet taking in strays. Comparing children to dogs. But her words stuck in his gut.
At home, he meant to break the news gently, knowing it would crush his wife. But she met him with her own: «I think Im pregnant.»
Joy swallowed everything else. At last. They rushed to the hospital, where tests confirmed it: five weeks along. She fretted over keeping him waiting, but he didnt care. «However long it takes,» he said, giddy. They talked constantly nowcribs, names, toys. They itched to buy everything but held back; superstition said it was bad luck.
A month before the due date, she spiked a fever. Then, worsethe baby stopped moving. They raced to the hospital. He waited, hours dragging, until a doctor emerged: «We saved your wife. The baby was stillborn.»
Blind with grief, he stumbled outside. Never imagined pain like this. Then he thought of herhow much worse it must be for her. He hadnt even asked: boy or girl? He went back. A young nurse softened: «It was a boy.»
In the car, he wept.
They let him see her. He dreaded her eyesand rightly so. Her face was gaunt, her eyes hollow with despair. Hed seen that look before. But where?
Wordless, he kissed her hand. «Its all right. Youll heal. Well have children. The doctor promised.» She tried to smile.
For a year, they followed doctors orders. She sat in the garden, weak but recovering, solving crosswordsa hobby from her days at the village library, now nearly empty as young folk moved away. He brought fresh cream and curds from a neighbour. Slowly, she improved.
Then, one day, she met him with a shy smile: «I think its happened again.»
This time, they barely spoke of it, afraid to jinx it. The village didnt know.
At eight months, labour came early. They called an ambulancesaving her life, but not the baby. A girl, stillborn.
A week later, he returned to the hospital, desperate. «Why? Whats wrong with us?»
The doctor shook his head. «No warning signs either time. A mystery.»
Now he wondered: had they been cursed? At home, his wife was a ghostunkempt, barely eating. «Find a proper wife,» she muttered. «Im barren.» That word, *barren*, a brand no woman wanted.
He snapped, «Dont say that!» But how to reach her?
Then he remembered an old woman, a healer in the next village. Others swore by her. He sneaked a photo of his wifeher proud face from the village halls honour boardand drove there.
The cottage was dim, smelling of lavender and incense. The old woman spoke before he could: «Your wifes not to blame. *You* took livesneedlessly.»
He exploded. «Liar! Ive never killed anyone!» He stormed out, hands shaking.
Driving home, he passed the neighbour whod given them Daisy, whod seen him kill her. What had she said? That hed taken livesa mother and pups. That God saw. Might do the same to him.
Horror dawned. He remembered Daisys eyes as he raised the gunjust like his wifes now. He *had* killed. How to fix it?
The next day, he went to the church, confessed to an old woman lighting candles. She listened, then said, «Light one for your wife. Then help those in need. Theres a dog shelter nearby. They always need food, walkers. Dogs are like peoplebetter than some. And bring your wife here.»
«I dont know prayers,» he admitted.
«God doesnt mind. Speak from the heart.»
He went to the shelter. The dogs eyesalive, abandonedlumped his throat. He asked what they needed. Not food, but cleaning supplies. Then the worker asked, «Could you drive vets here sometimes?» He gave his number.
For months, he helped. Learned the dogs names. They wagged tails when they saw him. Then he met Bennya scrappy, one-eared poodle pup found by train tracks, half-starved. He drove Benny to vet visits, talking to him about army days, meeting his wifenever Daisy. Benny would cower when he left, as if hoping theyd go together.
One evening, he told his wife, «Im bringing a guest tomorrow. If you dont like him, Ill take him back.» She shrugged.
Benny seemed to sense this was his chance. He licked her hands, nuzzled her. She held him. «Wheres your ear?» she murmured.
That night, Benny slept in a boot-box lined with her old jumper. In the morning, he found them in bedBenny on her pillow. Her eyes were alive again.
Benny was a healer. The shelter work went on. One day, she asked, «Could we go together?»
A month later, she whispered, «Im pregnant.» He froze. «Dont be afraid,» she said. «I believe in miracles now. In you. This time, itll be all right.»
She was right. Twin girls came, healthy and bright. They ran with Benny, his own redemption. Cruelty was gone. Life was lighter without itfor him, for others, for all creatures.
