The snow fell silently over London as Eleanor Whitmore, a striking woman with traces of time softening her features, pinned another notice to a lamppost. Her shoulders slumped slightly as she turned away, her slender frame nearly swallowed by the swirling flakes. Under the dim glow of the streetlamp, a gaunt, shivering dog of no discernible breed appeared, its fur matted and eyes watering from the cold.
Trembling with hunger and exhaustion, the dog wobbled onto its hind legs, squinting at the handwritten words: *Lonely woman seeks a friend.* A thought flickered in its weary mind*Shes looking for me. A true friend, loyal till the end.* With the last of its strength, it tore the paper free with its teeth and staggered forward, following the fading footprints in the snow, visible only to its keen eyes.
The bitter day bled into a crueler night. Ice crusted its paws, its sparse fur stiffened with frost, and the wind stole what little warmth remained. Still, the dog pressed on, stumbling and rising again, drawn by the call of a woman who longed for companionship.
Then, collapse. Its legs buckled, the snow a crushing weight. Just beyondwrought-iron gates, and behind them, Eleanor. Restless, she paced her cottage, unable to shake the odd pull in her chest. Stepping outside in nothing but her dressing gown and slippers, she barely registered the cold. She stood at the gate, waitingfor what, she didnt know.
A drift beside her shuddered. Something small and half-frozen emerged, a crumpled note clenched in its jaws. The ink was blurred, but the words remained: *Lonely woman seeks a friend.*
Gently, Eleanor gathered the trembling creature into her arms and carried it inside. Her hands shook as she dialled the emergency vet, her voice cracking with urgency.
Miraculously, the dog survived. The veta kind but weary man named Dr. Bennettprescribed medication and recommended premium food. With no other calls that night, he lingered over tea and Eleanors shortbread biscuits. Unmarried, he admitted women never understood why he preferred patching up broken animals to chasing interns or clubbing. Most werent interested in hearing about grateful eyes or mended bonesjust the glint of diamonds.
Eleanor listened, something stirring in her gaze. “Do you have many patients at the clinic?” she asked.
“Too many,” he sighed. “Holiday accidents, poisonings, cruelty cases. Ive got rounds in an hourbandages, IVs.”
“Let me come,” she said suddenly. “I can help. Ive got the time.”
A year later, the cottage was alive with warmththe smell of baking, the laughter of a small family, and the contented snoring of a well-loved dog curled by the hearth.
