Ive already made up my mind, Mum! Dont start a fresh debate, I shouted, staring stubbornly out of the window.
Youre nothing but a traitor!
Me?!! I gasped, outraged. Am I a traitor?!! I snapped, bolted out of the room, slammed the door behind me, and buried my face in the pillow, letting memories flood back.
Summer. Tommy was just fourteen. For his birthday Dad had bought him a sleek stunt bike, the one hed been dreaming of for ages. He spent whole afternoons racing the lads round the back garden, so caught up in the thrill that he almost forgot his own fathers birthday was looming. Granddad brought him back to reality.
Tommy, have you got Dads present sorted?
No, I admitted, sighing. Granddad, what am I supposed to give him?
If you like, I can help. Well make it together.
For two weeks Tommy and Granddad worked side by side on a wooden key holder. They cut, burnt, sanded, and screwed in tiny turned hooks. Tommy was on equal footing with Granddad, even forgetting about his new bike for a spell.
On his birthday Dad was in an unusually merry mood. He accepted the congratulations with a grin, praised Tommys gift, gave Granddad a hug and a kiss. Mum handed Dad a fashionable new coat and joked that if he didnt have such a wonderful wife, he could even marry the coat. Mum playacted a scolding, waving a towel and claiming shed never seen such a whiteblownout mess before.
Later, sitting at the holiday table in the country house, Dad announced unexpectedly:
Now, dear ones, forgive me, but Ive made a present for myself too. Ive finally fulfilled a childhood dream.
He rushed to the shed, where a machine had stalled, and returned with a wicker basket. I looked and gaspedinside the basket a thick black puppy slept soundly.
Meet him, this is Daxton.
Mum, eyes narrowed at Dad, could only manage: Well, Darryl, thats something!
Dad beamed with a childlike grin, his nose crinkling as he stared at the pup; it was impossible not to love him. I felt a sudden rush of triumph.
Soon Daxton was loved by everyone. The little Staffordshire Bull Terrier grew fast, turning into a muscular, broadchested dog with a surprisingly calm yet optimistic temperament. He adored Dad above all, as if hed realised that Dad was the most important person in his canine world. He liked the rest of the family too. Hed romp with me in tag, lounge lazily by Mum at the kitchen table while she cooked, sit with Granddad when visitors arrived, and even watch TV. For Dad hed follow anywhere, and once he rescued me from a serious mishap.
One evening Dad was out walking Daxton in the old park by the house. It was late, the streets were empty, and, unusually, Dad let the dog off the leash. Daxton bolted into the nearby bushes on a canine business of his own, while Dad ambled along the path, occasionally glancing back to keep the dog from wandering too far.
Lost in his thoughts, he didnt notice two figures emerging from the darkness onto the path.
Whatll it be, a cigarette or some cash? one rasped.
Ive got neither, Dad replied calmly. I dont smoke, Im not after money.
Got an extra? the other asked.
Nothing to say, Dad shrugged.
Mate, you look sharp! the first said, flashing a knife from his pocket.
At that moment Daxton sprang from the bushes, black as soot, broadchested and impressive in the moonlight. The thugs froze.
Come here!
Dad slipped the leash back onto Daxtons collar and said evenly:
Move on, lads, no trouble here. Ive got nothing youre after, and Id advise you not to bother the dog.
Later at home I told Granddad, If theyd known Daxton wouldnt bite a fly, Id have been in a better spot.
I was convinced that Daxtons gentle nature would never let anyone hurt Dad. The only time Daxton couldnt help was when Dad fell ill suddenly, a leukemia that ate him away in four years. I was eleven then.
Now Daxton never left my side, just as he had never left Dads. It seemed the dog understood his young master needed protection, and he stayed close, even when Granddad passed away unexpectedly.
Im fifty now. A year ago Mum met a German man named Hermann. Ivan didnt have any children, but hes grown up and realises you cant bring Dad back. Hermanns a decent fellow and treats me well. Two months ago, after the man moved in, Hermann discovered hes allergic to dogs. It didnt matter at first, but once we all lived together he started to wheeze. Mum, desperate, began urging me to give Daxton away.
I couldnt believe it, but I clenched my teeth and honestly asked everyone for a new home for Daxton. Whenever I looked at the dog, tears welled in my eyes. No one seemed ready to take on the responsibility of such a pet. Granddad couldnt take Daxton either; he was too frail to look after a large dog.
I wont put him in a shelter! I declared after yet another argument. Daxton cant go there. Hes ours!
Mum, but Hermann is ours now. Hes part of our family, Mum whispered, fighting back tears. Do you think a dog is more valuable than a person? More than me? More than Hermann?
Dont be upset, Mum. Hermann is important, yes. Daxton is my familymy, yours, and Dads, I blurted, on the brink of tears. Mum, lets move in with Granddad. We wont be a burden.
What, now I have to split my life between two houses? Ive got work, and now I have to haul around the city for chores? I complained, glancing at the key holder hanging in the hallway, the leash of Daxton dangling from it, my teeth clenched. Id decided everything.
Thats when Mum finally called me a traitor.
Liddell, Granddad said over the phone one evening, let Tommy stay with me. Well manage the household, as weve done before. It even helps me out.
Exactly, Liddell, Hermann added, youre giving the old man a hand. No need to separate from Daxton. Let him stay.
A click sounded in the lock. Daxton slipped into Granddads narrow corridor, followed by me, a big sports bag slung over my shoulder.
All right, Mum, Hermann helped! Well live with you now! Daxton snorted approvingly and waddled back to his favorite spot by the TV.
Later, Granddads voice crackled over the phone, Tommy, I feel something wrong with my heart this morning. How long will you be with me?
Dad, why didnt you call earlier? Im on my way! I shouted, hurrying out of the car. By the time I arrived, an ambulance was already there, and the paramedics were tending to Granddad.
Thank you, Margaret Sergeevna, for looking after him, I said, feeling the weight of the moment. Together with Daxton, the black Staffordshire Bull Terrier, we waited for the ambulance crew.
A young nurse, her hair in a ponytail, entered the hallway. Dont worry, Im holding his collar. He wont hurt you.
Im not scared, she replied, stepping into the room. He just looks fierce.
Its just his look, I whispered, watching the doctors movements. Is it serious?
Its a heart condition, young man. Hell need medication and regular checkups. Could someone at home help with the IVs?
Ill pay, I said, eyeing the nurse. Im a university student and work parttime.
Dont worry, she smiled. Ill come as long as the dog doesnt bite.
She crouched beside Daxton, who relaxed and licked her hand. I swore, Okay, Mrs. K., well sort everything, Ill buy what we need and leave the key.
Call us tomorrow, not Mrs. K., please, she replied. Thats my name.
Fine. Im Ivan, like Granddad, I answered, trying not to choke back tears.
I ran to the pharmacy, brewed tea for Granddad, and set off for a walk with Daxton.
Did you like her? Granddad asked when I returned.
K., the nurse? Yessympathetic and eager to help.
I think shes a good person. You should give her a chance.
K. kept visiting Ivan, as promised. Id see her at the door, Daxton trotting beside me, no longer fearing the dogs imposing look. Their walks grew longer, and we all spent more time together.
A year later, little Rashid was born. Daxton, now fully grown, guarded the babys pram as if it were his own treasure. He moved his favourite spot from the living room to the nursery, sleeping beside the cot, growling if Rashid woke up crying, and sniffing the tiny fingers with vigilant affection. On walks he defended the stroller, becoming the most fearsome protector a newborn could have.
Rashid learned to walk, clutching Daxtons leash, wobbling and hesitant. The old dog, now fifteen, guided him slowly across the room, ears twitching whenever little Rashid let out a screech. Granddad, feeling younger, sometimes drove me around in his old car, rarely leaving the house except when I visited.
Id often see Ivan Alekseevich by the gate, Daxton lying at his feet.
Ivan, Im popping into the shop for a few minutes, Rashids still asleep. Ill be back quickly.
Go on, K., dont worry, everything will be fine, Ivan smiled. Rashid and I will manage. Tommy will be here soon.
I tried calling Tommy to ask him to swing by the shop, but his phones off. Were out of milk and Rashids nappies are gone.
K., dont scold me. Im worried about you both. Take it easy, no rush.
K. hurried off. Ivan settled on the sofa, turning the TV down so Rashid wouldnt miss a wakeup, when a sharp pain suddenly stabbed his chest. He struggled for breath, tried to stand, but collapsed back onto the sofa. The medicine cabinet was out of reach. Daxton barked, leapt onto the sofa, licking Ivans face and hands.
Rashid began to sob, his little body shaking as he clutched the dogs fur. Daxton raced back to the sofa, the owner still motionless. The Staffords bark was short, his eyes widened in confusion. Rashid pushed himself toward the front door, his tiny body trembling.
The door, which K. had left ajar, slammed shut unexpectedly. Daxton bolted out into the hallway.
Margaret Sergeevna was in the kitchen when a knock sounded at the door. She peered out, saw Daxtons excited face, and laughed. Looks like Daxtons back, everyones here. The knock came again, Margaret opened it. Daxton, panting heavily, barked loudly.
Whats wrong, Daxton? Something happen? a neighbour asked, stepping into the hallway with the dog. The doors open.
K.! Margaret called.
From the bedroom came Rashids wailing. Seeing Ivan on the sofa, Margaret gasped and rushed to him. Daxton fled to the next room. Rashid stopped crying.
Tom, youve let me down. I shouldnt have left, K., small as a child, sobbed, wiping her tears with a handkerchief. If it werent for Daxton She pressed her face against the heavy head of the large Stafford.
Whats the matter, love? Its all right, Ivan said, embracing his wife.
Daxton inspected his master carefully.
Good boy, youre the best dog in the world!
In the room, Granddad whispered something to Rashid, who giggled wildly.
The grey muzzle of the old dog rested on his lap, eyes full of love for the people he treasured most.
