**Diary Entry**
The evening was bitter, the kind that gnaws at your bones. Eleanor Whitmore, still striking despite her youth slipping away, pinned another notice to the lamppost before shuffling off, shoulders slightly hunched. Her slender frame had nearly vanished into the swirling snowflakes when a shivering, half-frozen muttsome unidentifiable mix of breedspaused beneath the flickering streetlamp.
She trembled from cold and hunger, eyes watering. With effort, she rose onto her hind legs and squinted at the notice: *”Lonely woman seeks a friend.”* The dogs tail gave a feeble wag. *Thats me,* she thought. *Im the truest friend she could findloyal, steadfast I belong where Im wanted.*
Clamping the paper between her teeth, she mustered the last of her strength and trudged after the fading footprints, already vanishing beneath fresh snow.
The frigid day bled into an even colder night. Ice crusted her paws, her patchy fur was soaked through, and exhaustion threatened to drag her down. Yet, stumbling and staggering, she pressed on toward the call of that lonely womansomeone who needed her.
Then, her legs gave out. The snow felt like lead beneath her, the wind merciless.
Just a few steps away, beyond a tall iron fence, Eleanor sat restless in her warm home, gripped by an odd premonitionwas it dread or hope? She stepped outside in her slippers and a thin dressing gown, oblivious to the cold, waiting at the gate for whatever fate had in store.
And thenmovement. A small snowdrift shifted, and from beneath it emerged a near-frozen creature, the crumpled notice still clenched in its jaws. Its eyes held nothing but devotion.
Eleanors breath caught. Carefully, she gathered the shivering dog into her arms and hurried inside. A frantic Google search led her to an emergency vet clinic, her voice shaking as she pleaded for help.
Miraculously, the dog survived. The veta kind but weary man named Dr. Bennettprescribed antibiotics and recommended premium food. With no other calls that night, he lingered for tea and biscuits, and the conversation turned unexpectedly personal.
Hed never married. Women never understood why he preferred patching up strays to chasing interns or clubbing. They scoffed when he rushed out at midnight to mend a cats shattered leg or ease a dogs labour. *Theyd rather talk about diamonds,* he admitted, *not the gratitude in an animals eyes.*
Eleanor listened, something stirring in her chest. *”Do you have many patients now?”* she asked.
*”Too many,”* he sighed. *”Holiday accidents, poisonings, cruelty cases Ive got rounds in an hour.”*
*”Let me help,”* she said. *”I know what to do.”*
A year later, a cosy cottage housed a small, happy familya well-groomed rescue dog, the scent of freshly baked biscuits, and laughter that warmed even the coldest nights.
