Last winter was exceptionally cold. Our entire village was buried under snow, the roads impassable, the shop out of reach, and even the delivery van with bread couldnt be bothered to make the journey. I sat at home with my family, surviving on the vegetables and tinned food wed managed to fetch from the cellar before the blizzards hit. My husband was unable to get to work, transport had ground to a halt because of the weather, so we relied solely on the pension from my grandparents and hoped, sooner or later, wed make it to the shop. We stayed indoors around the clock. Our nine-year-old daughter, Alice, ventured out for a walk the first day the storm let up. My husband and I trudged through snow up to our knees, and it climbed even higher on Alice, yet she dashed around so cheerfully, utterly thrilled by the sight of all this snow.
On one of the quieter days, while my husband was clearing all the paths to the house and cellar, Alice returned home without her coat. The frost was biting, and she wore only a jumper, carrying something in her hands!
As it turned out, behind the field in a big box left near the bins, shed discovered a puppy. It was icy cold and barely breathing, so she made up her mind to bring it home and warm it up. We didnt have much fuel ourselveseveryone huddled around the stove for comfortbut Alice brought the little dog in. I was not at all pleased, but my husband wasnt about to leave an animal out in the cold.
We tried to feed and water the pup, who ate reluctantly, remaining weak and only sleeping. Alice wouldnt leave his side, wrapping him in a blanket, and my grandmother insisted there was no way he could be saved. Of course, Alice wouldnt accept that.
Early the next morning, my husband woke me with the words:
The dog isnt breathing.
It would have been better to remove him before Alice awoke, but I was afraid shed take it badly, so we waited until she got up and the three of us carried the puppy into the woods. The ground was too frigid and hard to dig, so we had no choice but to leave him in the snow.
That day, breakfast and lunch were silent affairs. Alice was subdued for a long while, and that evening she wandered into the sitting room where my husband and I were sleeping, climbed into bed, and whispered that she was glad to have found him, and grateful hed spent at least one night in warmth.
Sometimes I regret that we allowed her to bring him home, and other times I wonder what might have happened if we could have saved him. Alice would no doubt have pleaded to keep him until spring, and we would have brought him into the city with us and, in part, I do regret it. But I learned that, in moments when life is fraught with hardship, a small act of kindness may matter more than we realiseespecially as seen through a childs eyes.
