In a small English village, life unfolds in full view of everyone. Its hard to keep secrets heresooner or later, everything comes out.
This couple was no exception. Theyd married for love, a handsome pair, both hardworking. Their neat cottage, which theyd renovated themselves, and the garden, free of weeds and bursting with summer blooms, spoke of their care. The wife was warm to everyone, well-liked for never gossiping. Her husband, though, was a quiet manbut not all quiet men are the same. Some are gentle, just reserved. Others have an edge. His came from childhood, passed down from his father and grandfather. Yet he never took that harshness out on his wife. He did the heavy chores without complaint, drove her into town for shopping, never skimped. Andmost importantlyhe never joined the local lads at the pub. Theyd invited him at first, but hed just say, “No, thanks,” and that was that. Never raised a hand to her, either. Some of the women envied her. Shed tried advising the others not to put up with beatings, but they brushed her off. “You just got lucky,” theyd say. A few, sharp with envy, muttered, “Who knows how long *that*ll last?”
But this couple had their own private sorrow: four years married, and no children. Both healthy, yet still just the two of them.
Then one day, a neighbour begged them to take one of her dogs puppies. The poor scrap was the runt of the litter, scrawny but sweet. To his wifes surpriseshed been ready to pleadthe husband agreed. And so, Dolly came into their lives. No one could say who doted on her morehim or his wife. He trained her, built her a proper kennel with a wooden floor, even let her sleep inside when it rained.
Then they noticed: Dolly was expecting.
Thats when the husbands temper flared. He chained her up, snarling, “Run off, and youre not coming back.”
The pups arrived at nightfour of themtiny and blind. At dawn, the husband stormed inside. “Dollys turned the yard into a kennel,” he snapped.
His wife brightened. “Really? Oh, let me see!”
“See them before I drown the lot,” he growled.
She froze. “Drown them? And what about Dolly? You think a mother doesnt feel?”
But he was already outside, filling a tub with water from the well. She followed, sinking to her knees by the kennel, tears streaming as she watched Dolly nuzzle her pups. She knew some did thisdrowned unwanted littersbut shed never seen it.
Helpless, she fled inside, shutting every window, blocking out the sounds.
Later, he came in. “Done. They didnt feel a thing. Buried them at the bottom of the garden.”
She whispered, “Does Dolly know?”
“How should I know? Shouldve kept her in at night.”
A wail rose from outside.
“Let her howl,” he said. “Might teach her a lesson.”
Something inside her cracked.
Dolly mourned. Shed slink to the gardens edge, sitting motionless where her pups lay buried. Two more litters cameand met the same fate. Each time, the husbands rage boiled over, the pups drowned, Dolly chained for weeks.
Then came the final cruelty. Dolly, heavy with pups again, barely moved in the autumn chill. One morning, the husband took his shotgun, carried her to the pond, and shot her.
An old neighbourthe one whod given them Dollysaw it. Tears streaked her wrinkled cheeks as she whispered, “What have you done, lad? Youve taken lives. Not just a doga mother and her unborn. You think God wont notice?”
He glared but said nothing. Yet her words festered.
Thenhope. His wife was pregnant. Overjoyed, they rushed to the hospital, where tests confirmed it: five weeks along. But a month before the due date, fever struck. The baby stopped moving. At the hospital, the news was brutal: “We saved your wife. The baby was stillborn.”
A boy.
He sobbed in the car park.
A year later, they tried again. The same heartbreaka premature birth, another stillborn. This time, a girl. His wife crumpled. “Find a proper wife,” she murmured. “Im barren.”
Desperate, he visited a church, confessed to an old woman about Dolly, the pups, the lost babies. She told him, “Light a candle for your wife. Then help those in need. Theres a dog shelter nearbystart there.”
He did. For months, he drove vets, delivered supplies. Then he met Bennya one-eared poodle pup, found near railway tracks, half-starved. He nursed Benny, drove him to vet visits, even talked to him in the car.
One evening, he brought Benny home. His wife, hollow-eyed, barely glanced upuntil Benny licked her hand.
“Wheres his ear?” she whispered.
That night, Benny slept on her pillow. By morning, colour had returned to her cheeks.
Weeks later, she whispered, “Im pregnant.”
This time, it was different. Twin girls arrived, healthy and bright. Now they race around with Benny, their laughter ringing through the cottage.
He knows now: kindness is power. The past cruelty? Gone, like a shadow at dawn. And lifefor him, his wife, their girls, even Bennyis lighter without it.
