**The Faithful Friend of a Betrayer**
That autumn, drivers passing along the motorway began to notice a dog standing motionless at the roadside near the turnoff to a village of holiday cottages. 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 downthough its eyes still followed every passing car.
The locals started stopping to feed the stray. From a distance, the mongrel resembled a German shepherd, save for its bushy tail, curled playfully into a ring and draped over its back. It tolerated the kindness of strangers, never letting them too close, but ate ravenously, cleaning every scrap from the bowl. Only necessity drew it briefly from its post.
Among those who took pity was a teenager named Oliver, who lived in the village. Every day, he came to comfort the poor creaturea male dog he named Faithful. Oliver reasoned that something must have happened to the owner, convincing the dog he wouldnt return and urging him to come home. With a tilted head, Faithful listened warily but refused companionship. Slowly, however, a bond formed, and soon they sat together by the road, watching the cars rush past.
Autumn faded, and winter crept in with biting frosts. At Olivers request, his father built an insulated kennel with a covered platform near the country lane to shield the food bowls from rain and snow. Faithful approved of his new shelter but still returned to the motorway once warmed.
Soon, blizzards buried the road, the adjacent field, and even the dogs refuge. One snowfall sealed the kennel under a vast drift, and after each storm, Oliver and his father dug out the entrance. Faithfuls home became a snow cave with a trench leading to the road. And still, after eating, he would trudge to the empty lane, staring into the distance.
But winters end, and so did this one. The snow melted, the earth dried, birds sang, and butterflies flitted by. The motorway buzzed again as holidaymakers returned.
One day, Oliver visited as usual. They played, even ran a little before resting on the wooden platform, blinking in the bright sun. Suddenly, Faithful tensed, sprang up, and darted toward a dark car turning onto the lane.
The Honda screeched to a halt. A burly man in his thirties leapt out, cursing and raising a hand to strikebut Faithful yelped, jumping to lick him. Failing, he bounded joyfully around the man before planting his paws on his chest.
The man shoved him away, then bellowed, “Mandy, lookits Hunter! Thought the bugger had kicked it ages ago. Tough old thing, aint he?”
“Mister, is he yours?” Oliver asked, hurrying over.
“Was. Bought a shepherd, got this mutt with a curly tail instead. If Id brought *that* home, my mates wouldve laughed me out the pub. So I left him last autumn when I drove off. He chased the car till here, then fell behind.”
“Hes waited six months for you. Never left.”
“Blimey. Didnt think dogs did that,” the man said, ruffling Faithfuls neck. The dog whined, pawing at him, pressing close. “But Ive got a proper pedigree Alsatian nowwant a look?” He fetched a leggy pup from the car, boasting, “See these paws? Soon big as my fist. Proper beast!”
Faithful wilted. He retreated, sitting with a mournful gaze.
“Sorry, mate. Cant keep two,” the man muttered, avoiding his eyes. “Youve managed without me anyway.” He shoved the pup back inside, revved the engine, and sped off. Faithful gave chase briefly before stopping, watching the taillights vanish. Head low, he trudged toward the kennel.
Oliver followed, tears unchecked. “Faithful, dont cry. Hes not worth it. Not all men are traitorsyou just had rotten luck. Youve got *me* now. Were friends, yeah? Let me be your master. Ill never leave you. Come home with me?”
He stood, beckoning. Faithful hesitated, then followed, pausing uncertainly. His eyes seemed to ask, *”You wont betray me too?”*
“Come on, dont be scared. Youll be happy with us,” Oliver promised.
Finally trusting, Faithful bolted after him. They entered the yard together. After showing him around and feeding him, Oliver sat with him on the porch. The grateful dog licked his hands as Oliver murmured, “Youre the best, cleverest, handsomest boy. Dont believe that liaryoure not a mongrel. There *is* a breed like you. The finest in the world. Its called *Faithful Friend*.”
*Journal entry, March 18th*
*Some men arent worth a dogs love. But a boys heart? Thats a different matter.*
