In a small English village, life was lived in full view of the neighbours. Secrets didnt stay hidden for long. Everyone knew everything about everyone elseincluding this couple. Theyd married for love, a fine-looking pair, hardworking and proud. Their tidy cottage, which theyd renovated themselves, and the well-kept garden blooming all summer spoke for them. The wife was cheerful, never one for gossip. The husband, a man of few words, had a quiet sternness about himinherited from his father and grandfather, no doubt. But he was good to his wife, taking on the heaviest chores, driving into town to buy her new dresses without complaint. Best of all, he never joined the village lads at the pub. Theyd tried inviting him at first, but hed just say, “No, thank you,” and that was that. Never raised a hand to her, either. Some of the other women envied her, though shed tried advising them not to put up with rough treatment. Theyd just say she was lucky. The nastier ones muttered that her luck might not last. She ignored them, pitying women who let their husbands walk all over them.
But there was one shadow over their marriagefour years in, no children. Both healthy, yet nothing.
Then one day, a neighbour begged them to take a puppy. Her spaniel had eight, and this last little runt needed a home. “Shes tiny, but sweet-natured,” the neighbour said. “Youll fatten her up nicely.” To his wifes surprise, the husband agreed. And so, Daisy came into their lives.
No one could say who doted on her morehim or his wife. He taught her tricks, carried her inside when it rained, even built her a proper kennel with a wooden floor. At night, though, they let her sleep indoorsshe always returned to her spot.
Then, one day, they realised Daisy was expecting. And thats when something in him snapped. He chained her up, growling, “If I catch you roaming, youre not coming back.”
The pups came at nightfour of them. He found them in the morning, storming inside to announce, “Daisys turned our yard into a kennel.” His wife rushed out, thrilled, but he cut her off. “Ill drown them before sunset.”
She stared. “You cant! What about Daisy? Do you think dogs dont feel love for their young?”
He was already filling a barrel with water from the well. She fled inside, shutting every window so she wouldnt hear.
Later, he came in. “Its done. Buried them at the far end of the garden.”
She whispered, “Does Daisy know?”
“Doesnt matter. Shouldnt have been out roaming.”
From the yard came a low, mournful howl.
Something inside her fractured that day. Yes, villagers sometimes did away with unwanted littersbut why so cruelly?
Daisy had two more litters. Each time, the same fate. Each time, she sat for hours by the graves under the apple tree.
Then came the last straw. Daisy, heavy with pups again, barely moved from her kennel in the autumn chill. One morning, he took his shotgun, carried her to the pond, and
An elderly neighbour saw it all. The same woman whod given them Daisy as a pup. Tears streaked her wrinkled cheeks as she whispered, “What have you done, lad? Youve taken lives. A mother and her unborn. Dont you fear the Lord might do the same to your own?”
He glared but said nothing. Superstitious nonsense.
Yet her words festered.
At home, he meant to confess, but his wife spoke first. “I think Im pregnant.”
Joy swallowed everything. They rushed to the clinicfive weeks along. For months, they whispered plans, making lists of cots and toys, careful not to jinx it.
Then, a month before the due date, fever struck. The baby stopped moving. At the hospital, the doctor met him in the corridor. “We saved your wife. The child was stillborn.”
A boy.
He wept in the car.
His wife crumbled. Hollow-eyed, she murmured, “Find a proper wife. Im barren.”
Desperate, he visited a village wise-womanonly for her to accuse him before hed spoken a word. “Your wifes blameless. Youre the one who took lives.”
Furious, he stormed out. But driving home, he remembered the neighbours warning. God sees everything.
The next day, he went to the cathedral. An old woman listened to his confessionabout Daisy, the pups, the lost babies. “Light a candle for your wife,” she said. “Then help where you can. Theres a dogs home near here. They always need hands.”
So he went. The place brimmed with abandoned soulssome wary, some hopeful. He asked what they needed. “Cleaning supplies,” the keeper said. “And rides for the vet.”
He gave his number.
For months, he returned. Then he met Bennya scrawny spaniel pup missing an ear, found by railway workers. Benny needed vet visits, and on those drives, he talked to himabout the army, meeting his wife. Never about Daisy.
One day, he brought Benny home. His wife, slumped in a dressing gown, barely glanced upuntil Benny licked her hand.
“Wheres his ear?” she whispered.
That night, Benny slept on her pillow.
By morning, colour had returned to her cheeks.
A month later, she whispered, “Im pregnant.”
This time, it stuck. Twin girls.
Now, they race around the garden with Bennyhis redemption, his proof that kindness is stronger than cruelty. And that life, once hardened, can soften.
