She sat still, trying to hush her secret heart ... - Margret London.

She sat in the center of the driveway, proud and strong, straight, and tall, and as I'd come to discover later on, purposely presenting a well-behaved demeanour. I first saw her like this through the living room window and I didn't know what to think of it and decided quite quickly that I needed to come outside and investigate why a neighbour's dog was not only in my garden but in a position like it was, so that is what I done.

The dog continued to sit just as she was, as if to show constraint or some kind of understanding of obedience. I stood quietly, lost in the moment for a second or two. I indeed recognized her, of course, as Mister Freedman's pride and joy, his protective companion, a beautifully strong Doberman. And then it hit me.

'Everything alright, girl?' I straight-out asked as if a straight-out reply could come back to me.

As if she understood, she dropped her head and rolled her tongue. She began to pant in short regular bursts. Is she showing emotion? She looks upset to the point she may even be crying. Before I could proceed any further, an ambulance turned a corner and onto the street. It passed my house and moved on to pull up outside Mister Freedman's house.

I went to go ask questions though in return I was asked to give the medics some space as they made their way into Mister |Freedman's home with a stretcher. The dog had followed and had come to sit next to me. She whimpered, that was a definite cry. Oh my. My heart dropped. What a pleasant man Mister Freedman was, ... is. I know nothing yet, I shouldn't be presumptive, but I can't help it. He could be perfectly fine though every fiber in my being told me otherwise.

Bill is his name and he often asked to be called that though it never felt right to me. I'd often pick up a paper from the newsagents for him or stop and talk about the weather or whatever else was worthy of neighbourly conversation. Other than that, we weren't particularly close, still, I'd never want to see any harm come his way. He had made it to an age, of which I'd like to see myself one day, and it always seemed to me that he had at least a few more years in him yet.

Minutes passed and a crowd had gathered, unfortunately I feel they gathered more out of curiosity rather than concern and Sophie the Doberman became uneasy right before the stretcher trolley came back out. How little credit we give animals in regard to intelligence and emotion. Sophie is very aware of what is happening, she is concerned, she is upset, she is all the things any human would be who is close to someone else who isn't doing so well.

My soul dropped in witness of a removal and not a rescue of sorts. A body carted out, covered with a thin white blanket, hardly something dignified for the master of the domain it is being removed from.

When I tried to approach the ambulance as the trolley was boarding, I attempted to ask a question or two, explaining who I was and the presence of the dog which remained close to me. I was told to stand back and there was hesitancy in providing me with any information, though to be honest I knew what was what. I was also told that it would be good to take the dog in if I could, until such a time may come when someone could come to me about that particular situation.

It was never going to be a question. I had often greeted Sophie whenever I had come into contact with the old man. She had always been pleasant and even with the lack of closeness, the dog seemed to choose me to comfort her. The moment I saw her sitting in the driveway. I understand now, she was presenting herself, auditioning for work almost, in return for care. Asking me to take her in and care for her now that Mister Freedman is gone, and in return she would offer security and friendship. Her obedience and intelligence had been on show.

What an amazing animal she really is. There is no question, at least none that needs answering for it would appear that she and I have a mutual need and we are each other's answer. I give her a command and she does obey, right away too. No adjustment period needed. I have had her for a few days now and it is as if we each have always known the other.

She misses Mister Freedman, and this is clear whenever we pass his home, which of course, was also Sophie's home. My home is her home now. The time we have had together feels much longer than what it has been and it feels as if it is meant to be. A fear has come to me, not a fear of mortality but more a fear of what is next.

If a family member comes on behalf of a former owner, a former friend, will they want ... custody – for lack of a better word ... of Sophie. She has chosen me, and I have more than accepted her. I don't want to lose her; do I have a choice?

My life has changed considerably since Sophie came and sat in my driveway, and my health, well, you can imagine the impact regular daily walks could have when they had not existed so much beforehand. A bond is complete ... but ...

A stranger has come to my door, a slightly familiar stranger at that. I am hesitant to answer for I am sure she is a relative of Mister Freedman's. Will she understand the current arrangement? Will she leave it be? I am quite sure Sophie wants it as much as I do but what if her reaction to this familiar stranger is one that suggests otherwise?

Only one way to find out ...