Author's Note: This story depicts grief and social anxiety, and how taking care of others can sometimes help you take care of yourself. The events are fictional, but I hope you enjoy and that it brings you comfort if you need it.
Sarah sighed as she carefully pulled back a curtain just a smidge; just enough to look outside. She saw the shifting grey, just like the one that hummed inside her like an old box TV set with no signal and knew before the first drop fell that it was going to rain.
"Of course," she said, quietly, to no one in particular. In fact, to no one at all.
Sarah was 22 and lived alone. Some would say she was lucky not to have to exist alongside a gaggle of roommates, or with her parents. But they wouldn’t know, just by looking at her, that her only family was her Gran, and that she died a year ago, leaving her the house. And leaving her all alone.
Sarah supposed some people would still consider her lucky, having the house all to herself in this economy. They were right, in a way, but again, they weren’t to know that the last time she’d left the house - beyond the front or back doorstep - was to attend her Gran’s funeral. That she hadn’t brushed her teeth in about three weeks. That she could barely get out of bed most days. But how would they know, anyway? She never left the house - she just couldn’t - not with all the noise, and heat, and eyes on her, like laser beams. The one time she tried to go in her garden she couldn’t breathe and had to rush inside before she passed out, because if she did there would be no one to find her for weeks, maybe even months.
Sarah sighed, imagining the raindrops falling against the windowpanes covered constantly by heavy curtains. She remembered, for a moment, the game she used to play as a child, how she would pick a raindrop and trace its trail down the window and wait to see if it was the first of the cluster of raindrops that reached the bottom.
Sarah almost pulled the curtain back, just to see, but as she moved her hand towards the fabric, anxiety shot through her as though she'd been struck by lightning.
It was then that she heard it, a strange scratching at her front door. The anxiety jolted, almost as if there was an aftershock. Sarah stepped away as if on impulse, and sat on her sofa, waiting, desperately, for that sound to go away.
Unfortunately for Sarah, the sound continued for what felt like hours. And as the sound continued, the anxiety continued to reverberate through her, her hands and feet buzzing with pins and needles. And still, the scratching sound continued.
In moments like this, she always tried to distract herself. What was that trick she read online? Five things she can see, four things she can hear…
She tried her best, but she couldn't seem to focus on any other sound that wasn't the scratching at the door - even the fierce rain that roared alongside the wind outside.
She tried her best...
"All you've got to do is try your best, love," Sarah suddenly heard her Gran's voice, as clear as day. It was something that she always said, especially when Sarah was struggling with things, like her exams or the school football team tryouts. It used to be something she would try and remember, after her Gran died, to help her get out of bed or find something to eat.
But lately, she hadn't thought of it so much. She supposed she'd used it to get by so much that it had lost its magical effect. Just the idea of that made Sarah’s chest ache like someone had just punched it. She didn't want to stop remembering her Gran.
Louisa Fielding had practically raised her. But on top of being her guardian and pretty much her mum, she was so incredibly kind - always baking enough treats to feed the streets, cheering everyone up during bad weather, and keeping plenty of cash on hand in case she passed someone homeless to offer some food and a night at the hotel. Of course, she also had her wild sense of humour - most of Sarah's memories involving her Gran involved the both of them laughing, or at the very least, smiling.
Yes, Louisa Fielding was the best person Sarah ever knew. And the person with the biggest, funniest heart. Until it stopped.
Sarah caught her breath as reality caught up with her. She was sat alone and anxious in her dead Gran's house. And there was still that damn scratching noise, going on and on by the front door.
"All you've got to do is your best, love."
Sarah wondered what her best would be, right now. Not being anxious? But it was that scratching that made her feel anxious in the first place…
Alright, Sarah thought. I will.
Her hands trembled as she reached to open the door, but she still managed to pull it open despite the wind roaring against it.
Whatever Sarah thought would be there, she certainly didn't expect a tiny, soaking wet little bundle of fur. A gasp escaped her lips, and in that time, the bundle of fur rushed inside, as if the noise was inviting it in.
Sarah shut the door, still shaking, and turned to see the wet ball of fur sat, dripping on the carpet beneath it. Under the wet, matted grey, Sarah could see two black pupils, looking up at her. They stared at each other for a moment, before the bundle of fur shook itself furiously, sending water everywhere as if it had suddenly started raining inside.
"No!", Sarah cried, as she reeled from the cold water; she was soaked, and almost started trembling herself, if she wasn't so distracted by the small, furry dog that had just revealed itself.
It turned its head slightly as if trying to decipher what she was saying. It had long, matted black fur, and two ears that stuck up on its head, that Sarah thought, at that moment, almost looked like antennas.
"Sorry," Sarah said, quickly, and much quieter. The dog tilted its head back up as she spoke, seemingly understanding. It gave a soft bark, which Sarah thought, for a moment, almost sounded like the dog was saying hello. The absurdity of that thought made Sarah smile, and then the dog started gently wagging its tail.
The sight of this made Sarah’s anxiety lessen, just a little, and she realised that the dog was still dripping wet - and so was she. Not that it mattered, really, as she hadn't changed out of these pyjamas in a few days. Weeks, even. But if she was going to dry the dog, she may as well change into a fresh set afterwards.
"Shall we get us dry?" Sarah asked the animal who simply wagged its tail as though enthusiastically agreeing with her.
*
It had been a few days with the dog before Sarah decided to see if he had an owner. Sure, it seemed happy enough - Sarah even let it sleep on the end of her bed - but she couldn't bear letting it stay if it was someone else's family. She couldn't just take it from someone. She wouldn't.
But before she took him to the vet, she needed to make him more presentable. She didn't want anyone to think badly of her - she was anxious enough at the mere prospect of leaving the house as it was.
Bathing the scruffy little thing was actually kind of fun. Sarah managed to rub soap into the dog's fur until it decided to shake again, covering her in soap, too.
Instead of being frustrated or upset, it made her smile. She finished bathing the dog before jumping in the shower herself to wash off the soap and apply human soap and wash herself too - she was already in there, so she might as well, right?
It was only when she was brushing the dog's long, matted fur afterwards, that she realised that was the first shower she'd taken in a while. The first time she'd even had the energy to consider going in the shower, let alone having one.
And as the thought entered her mind, the small dog wrinkled slightly before licking her hand and bringing her back to the present.
"Good dog," Sarah said, and she started to brush again, counting as she did so, and breathing easier with every new number.
*
Despite the positive steps Sarah had taken today, her hands shook as she went to open the front door. At just the thought of stepping out there - of being around other people - Sarah felt her breathing quicken, her chest hitching faster and faster as the reality of what she was about to do hit her like a slap in the face.
As she turned away from the door, she felt a soft pressure against her legs. Sarah looked down to see the dog stretched up and resting its front paws on her legs, as if it was trying its hardest to reach her. It did a gentle, soft bark, before attempting the jump again. Eventually, what the dog was trying to do broke through her anxious thoughts and appeared in her mind: He was trying to leap up at her and into her arms. The dog did a soft bark again - "Pick me up," it seemed to be trying to say, "Pick me up!"
So, Sarah obliged. But as soon as she picked the dog up, leaving its lead to dangle like a cord towards the floor, the dog stopped moving. Instead, it curled up in her arms and even nuzzled its nose into the crook of her elbow.
Sarah stayed still, not wanting to wake him, and realised she could hear its heart beating, so softly, through its fur. Just listening to it for a few minutes, standing stock-still, was enough to steady her own anxious heartbeat until eventually, she felt okay again, and her anxiety was at bay.
Not wanting to disturb the sleeping animal in her arms, Sarah impulsively decided to carry the dog to the vet, just as it was.
While anxiety crackled through her as soon as she took a step away from the house, Sarah tried her hardest to just focus on the dog's steady heartbeat as it slept soundly in her arms. And somehow, that helped her keep putting one foot in front of the other, to the sound of the little dog's heart beating. Ba-bump, one step, ba-bump, two steps, ba-bump, three steps…
Before she knew it, Sarah found herself at the vet, only slightly drenched in sweat, and she’d walked the whole way there without collapsing, and even without having an anxiety attack.
The receptionist at the front desk smiled kindly as Sarah approached.
"Do you have an appointment, love?" She asked.
Sarah tried to ignore the worry bubbling up inside her as she replied.
"Yes, in about 5 minutes," Sarah managed to say, before gesturing to the dog in her arms.
"Aw bless," the receptionist said, still smiling. "Tired, is he?"
Sarah just nodded. "And a bit scared."
"Aw, don’t worry," the receptionist said, talking more to the dog now than to her. "Just do your best in there, alright? That's all you've gotta do."
Sarah nodded, grateful, and rushed to sit down before the receptionist saw the tears that sprung into her eyes at her very familiar words.
*
It wasn't long before they were called in by a vet with colourful tattoos of a cat and a dog on each arm, angled and etched as if they were greeting each other over the vet’s chest.
"Hello," the vet said softly, more than the dog than to Sarah, which put her at ease. "Who do we have here, then?"
The dog stirred in her arms and jumped deftly onto the steel examination table.
"Um," Sarah said, suddenly realising that she'd never given the poor creature a name, "I..."
Anxiety crackled in her chest, and she caught her breath in her throat, making her cough. God, maybe this whole thing was a mistake.
"It's alright," said the vet, as if they could sense her anxiety. "It took me weeks to name my last kitten. Let's just start the examination and we can go from there, alright?"
Sarah nodded and stepped back, grateful the focus would no longer be on her.
The dog sat calmly and didn't object to anything the vet did during the examination and various bits of paperwork on the computer. When they were done, the vet even patted the dog on the head, saying "Good boy."
"Boy?" Sarah asked. Gender hadn't crossed her mind either.
"Yup," said the vet. "And he's not microchipped either, so unless you'd like us to take care of him until he finds a new home—"
"No," Sarah cut the vet off with a quickness that surprised even herself. "He's coming home with me."
At that, the dog started wagging its tail, and the vet smiled.
"Alright then. Before I let you go, have you had any thoughts of a name for this little lad?"
Sarah thought for a moment before a name appeared in her mind, as bright and clear as a summer's day. As loud and joyous as her Gran's laugh - the perfect name.
"Lou," said Sarah. "His name is Lou."
The dog kept on wagging his tail, quicker now, and licked her cheek as she reached out to pick him up.
"Well, he seems to like it. And Lou - that’s a lovely name," said the vet, with a smile.
It is, Sarah thought, both there and as she carried Lou home. Just the sound of it made her smile. Lou, Lou, Lou…
Sarah would later realise that her trip home was the first time she’d left the house since her Nan’s funeral and she hadn’t focused on her anxiety, or let it consume her.
Despite the brisk walk there and back, Sarah collapsed heavily on the sofa as soon as she got through the door. Thankfully, Lou happily jumped on her lap, settling as he rested his head on Sarah’s hand. She couldn't move it now, but she realised that when she could, she felt like she could brush her teeth, or even her hair, especially since Lou was so well groomed - she might as well be too, right?
Or at the very least, she would try her best, she thought, shutting her eyes, just for a moment, as she listened to Lou softly breathing in and out, in and out…
That's all she had to do - and it didn't seem so difficult now. She was no longer alone, after all.
And for the first time in a long time, just as she was about to fall into a peaceful sleep, Sarah realised she might just agree with anyone who called her lucky - yes, because now she had Lou to take care of, and him to take care of her.