occasions. With each new visit, it trusted her that bit more. On one occasion, it came through the door that she had absentmindedly left open.
“What’s that thing doing in here?” John growled, when he returned from his chopping, seeing the dog sitting contentedly at the fireside.
“Oh, I must have left the door open,” his wife replied. Hurrying across to the door, she coaxed the animal out. The dog willingly obliged, though it gave John another one of its icy-cold stares, passing him by.
“There’s something about that dog,” said John, all in a shiver, “that I don’t like.”
“What do you mean?” Josie asked, surprised that her husband could have said such a thing about so wondrous an animal.
“I, I don’t know,” he spluttered, grappling to find the right words.
“I think he’s a wonderful animal,” she insisted. “With him here, you won’t have to be worrying about any bears coming after our livestock. I think old Blue is a godsend.”
“Blue – who’s Blue?”
“Now don’t you be giving me that smart talk,” Josie chided, “you know only too well who I mean.”
“Why Blue?” he asked, trying to rebuild the bridge he had just shattered.
“Because of his eyes,” she explained. “They’re so incredibly blue.”
“Wolves have blue eyes,” John replied, in a whisper. “Wolves have blue eyes…”
As the days passed, the relationship between John and Blue had its ups and downs. One day John might warm to the animal, offering it a crumb or two from his plate. The next day, however, he might scold his wife for having encouraged it in the first place.
Josie was encouraged by her husband’s gradual warming to the dog. With it and her beloved husband by her side, she was as happy and contended as she had even been.
One day while she was out in the garden, feeding her chickens, Josie thought that she heard the sound of something moving about in the bushes to the rear of the chicken house. Creeping carefully, quietly around the flimsy structure, she wondered if it was the fox that was stealing their chickens.
“Come on, Blue,” she called.
Springing to attention, Blue obediently followed his mistress to the rear of the chicken house. The noise, however, had now stopped.
“Can you see anything, Blue?” she asked, as she approached the bushes to the rear of the ram-shackled structure.
Baring his teeth, Blue growled.
“What is it, boy?” Josie asked. “Is there something there?”
Hunkering down low, almost stuck to the ground, Blue made his way forward. There was something there. He knew it. Suddenly, a huge bear bursting its way through the bush made a lunge at Josie. It was so fast, she had no time to react, to try to get away. She screamed in utter fright.
With no thoughts as to its own safety, Blue leapt at the bear, attacking the bear, defending his mistress with all of his might.
On the far side of the house, at the log pile, John heard the ruckus. Fearing the worst, he grabbed hold of his axe and raced across to save his beloved wife. “What happened?” he asked, when he got there, seeing her okay.
“Blue!” she replied.
“Blue?”
“Yes,” she said, pointing to the two animals that were still fighting. “That bear was about to attack me. But Blue – he defended me, he saved my life!”
Blue was unable to kill the bear, it was simply too large and strong an animal. However, he gave it some nasty wounds to nurse for a while. Watching the bear scamper away, disappearing into the forest from which it had come, John saw Blue in an entirely different light; he saw an animal that risked its own life for the women who had offered it friendship. Approaching the bleeding and battered animal, John patted Blue on the head. Hugging him, he said, “Thanks, Blue. I will never forget this!”
Pardon? You want to know what happened to Blue? Okay, I will tell you to him. He shattered John’s dream of happy rural isolation, replacing it with something far better, becoming man – and woman’s best friend.
THE END.
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