**A Faithful Friend Betrayed**
That autumn, drivers passing along the motorway noticed a dog standing motionless by the roadside near the turnoff to a village. Day after day, it remained in the same spot. At first, it stood tall, then after a week, it sat, and later, weakened by hunger, it lay downonly lifting its head to watch each passing car.
Locals began stopping to feed the stray. From a distance, it resembled a German shepherd, save for its fluffy tail curled in a ring over its back. It greeted the kindhearted with wary friendliness, never letting them too close, yet devouring every scrap left for it. Only briefly would it leave its post, and only when necessary.
Among them, a teenage boy named Oliver, who lived in the village, took the dogs plight to heart. Every day, he came to comfort the suffering creaturemale, as it turned outand named him Faithful. He reasoned that something must have happened to the owner, urging the dog to come with him instead.
The poor thing would tilt its head, listening with distrust, refusing to engage. But slowly, a bond formed. Soon, they sat together by the road, watching cars speed past.
Autumn faded, and winter crept in with biting frosts. Olivers father, at his pleading, built a sturdy wooden shelter by the lane, roofed to shield the food from rain and snow. Faithful seemed to approve, warming himself inside, but always returning to his vigil by the motorway.
Blizzards soon buried the road, the fields, and even the dogs refuge. One night, the shelter vanished beneath a drift, levelling the landscape into a single white expanse. After each snowfall, Oliver and his father dug a path to the entrance. Now, the shelter was more like a cave, with a trench leading back to the road. And still, once fed, Faithful would trot to the empty tarmac and stand there, staring into the distance.
But all winters end, and so did this one. The snow melted, the earth dried, birds sang, and butterflies flitted by. The motorway stirred to life again as weekenders returned to their countryside retreats.
One afternoon, Oliver came as usual. He and Faithful played, even sprinting together before collapsing onto the wooden platform, drowsy in the warm sunlight.
Suddenly, the dog tensed. He leapt up and bolted toward a dark car turning onto the lane.
The Honda screeched to a halt. A stocky man in his early thirties leapt out, cursing, and raised a hand to strikebut Faithful yelped, jumping to lick his face. Failing that, he pranced joyfully, then planted his paws on the mans chest.
The stranger recoiled, then bellowed, “Bloody hell, Mandyits Hunter! Thought hed kicked the bucket ages ago. Tough little bugger, aint he?”
“Mister,” Oliver called, running up, “is this your dog?”
“Was. Bought what I thought was a pedigree shepherdturns out hes just some mutt with a curly tail. Blokes wouldve laughed if I brought him home. So I left him here last autumn. He chased the car till this spot, then gave up.”
“Hes been waiting for you here six months. Never left.”
“Didnt think dogs did that,” the man muttered, ruffling Faithfuls neck. The dog whined, pawing at him, pressing close. “Got a proper East European shepherd now, papers and all. Wanna see?” He hurried to the car, hauling out a leggy pup. “Look at these pawsgonna be massive. Proper beast!”
Faithful wilted. He backed away, sitting with a mournful gaze.
“Sorry, mate,” the man muttered, avoiding his eyes. “Cant take two. Didnt think youd still be here. Youll manage.” He shoved the pup into the car, climbed in, and roared off.
Faithful gave chase, then stopped, watching the taillights fade. Head low, he trudged back toward the shelter.
Oliver followed, tears unchecked. “Faithful, dont cry. Hes not worth it. Not all people are like thatyou just got a rotten owner.” He hugged the dog, stroking his muzzle. “Dont grieve. Youve got me now. Were friends, yeah? Ill never leave you. Come home with me?”
He stood, beckoning. The dog hesitated, then followed, pausing often as if asking, *Will you betray me too?*
“Come on, dont be scared. Youll be happy with us.”
Finally, they walked into the yard together. After showing Faithful around and feeding him, Oliver sat with him on the porch. The grateful dog licked his hands as he murmured, “Youre the best dogcleverest, handsomest. Dont listen to that git. Youre not just any mutt. Theres a breed called *faithful friend*and thats you.”
**Lesson learned:** Some hearts are too loyal for the hands that discard them. But kindness finds its wayoften in the unlikeliest places.
