A policeman’s son befriends a homeless man and his dog and brings them food every day. Then the dog appears unexpectedly and alerts him to an injustice.At twelve, Brian Devlin was small for his age, and not very athletic. His father, Gary, didn’t really understand his shy, bookish son. His son was nothing like him…
He had been a tall, strapping, boisterous boy, always up to his ears in mischief. Gary tried to build his son’s self-confidence, but the harder he tried, the more Brian seemed to pull away.
Brian was smart, that Gary couldn’t deny, and he had a scholarship at a prestigious private college on the other side of town. The boy was scared of taking a bus, but since the school was close to his work, Gary picked him up every afternoon.
Gary was a desk Sargeant at the local precinct, and by the time his work ended at 5:00 p.m., the school day was long over. In the winter, Brian waited in the library and did his homework. But in the summer, he sat on the school steps and waited for his dad, soaking up the sunshine.
One afternoon, when Gary arrived, Brian wasn’t on the steps. He was outside the school gates petting a dog. Brian looked up at his dad with a happy grin.
Don’t make assumptions about people before you know who they are.
“Look, Dad,” he cried, then he said to the dog, “Dance!”
The dog hopped up onto its back legs and did a little jig, front paws up in the air and its tongue lolling out happily.
“Isn’t that so cool?” the boy asked.
“Yes,” Gary said, surprised by the enthusiasm Brian was showing. “Whose dog is that?”
“It’s Carl’s,” Brain said, and pointed at a man sitting on the pavement and leaning back against the school fence. The man was in his forties and he was clearly homeless.
A ragged bundle of blankets lay on the ground next to him, and he was unshaven. The dog, however, was well cared for. It was a Golden Retriever, and its fur was groomed and gleaming.
The man shrank back when Gary looked at him, so he said to his son, “Come on, now, it’s time to go.”
On the way home, Gary said, “Listen, Brian, I want you to stay away from that man and his dog, OK?”
“Carl’s OK and I love Goblin!” Brian protested.
“Goblin?” Gary asked. “Is that the dog’s name? Well, I’m sure Goblins’ a good dog, but I don’t want you befriending vagrants, Brian. Do you understand?”
“But dad…” Brian protested.
“Not another word,” Gary snapped.
The next day, when Gary came to fetch Brian, the boy was studiously sitting on the steps reading a book, but that night, his wife co
mplained that half a roast chicken was missing.
“I don’t understand!” she cried. “I set it aside to make sandwiches for Brian’s lunch and now it’s gone!”
Gary looked over at Brian and the boy looked so innocent that he was immediately suspicious. Was Brian taking food to school for that vagrant and his dog?
Gary started keeping an eye on the pantry and noticed that tins of sausages kept vanishing. He now knew that his son was stealing so he could feed the dog and the homeless man every day. Gary felt a pang.
His son, who had such difficulty making human friends, had bonded with the dog. It was a pity it belonged to a vagrant, a man who might be dangerous.
Two days later, Gary got off work early and when he arrived at the school, he caught Brian outside the gates. He had a bag in his hand and he was saying: “Hey guys, I have your favorite spaghetti, Carl. And for you boy, your favorite sausages!”
“BRIAN!” he thundered. “What are you doing?”
The boy looked up at him, and for the first time, Gary saw fear in his son’s eyes. Immediately he felt a surge of anger
It was this derelict’s fault that his son was afraid of him! He stepped forward and clenched his fists. “Get away from that man,” Gary shouted. “Get into the car!”
That night, Gary and his wife sat down and talked to Brian about the dangers of befriending strange men. Brian shrugged it off. “Dad, I know about stranger danger and bad touching. Carl is NOT like that, he’s nice. You can tell he’s a good person because Goblin loves him so much, and Goblin’s the BEST, smartest dog.”
“Brian,” Gary said quietly. “I’m sure Goblin’s a great dog, but you know what? Hitler had a great dog and he loved him, and I’m sure the dog loved him back. A good dog does NOT make this vagrant a good person. Please stay away from him, Brian!”
“NO!” shouted Brian, and he pushed back his chair. “Carl is my friend and I love Goblin! Why do you always have to spoil everything? I HATE YOU!”
That night, Gary made a decision. He was going to solve this problem his own way…
That Saturday, Brian woke up early to the sound of anxious barking. He thought sleepily, “That sounds just like Goblin!”
Brain jumped out of bed and looked out of his window. It WAS Goblin, and he was standing on the porch barking anxiously and looking very unhappy.
“Goblin!” Brian cried as he opened the door, and immediately the dog ran to him. Goblin put his head in Brian’s lap and started whining. “What’s wrong, boy? Where’s Carl?”
But the dog just whined and shivered so Brian decided to do something he’d always been afraid to do before — go to his dad’s work and ask for his help.
Gary was stunned when he saw Brian at the precinct with the dog by his side. “Brian!” he gasped. “What are you doing here? How did you get here?”
“Dad!” he cried. “I think something bad happened to Carl. Goblin came looking for me and he’s very scared…” But Goblin wasn’t looking scared, he was looking up at Brian’s dad and growling.
Brian had never heard Goblin growl before. “Dad!” he asked. “What have you done?”
Gary flushed. “Carl was loitering near a school and he was warned off twice, so we arrested him!”
“But dad!” Brain cried. “He did nothing wrong! He’s not well, he needs help…You don’t know anything about him! He’s a veteran and he was in the bomb squad and he worked with sniffer dogs to find explosives. That’s why Goblin’s so well trained. He’s a good man and you arrested him because he’s sick!”
“He’s not SICK!” Gary cried angrily. “He’s a bum!”
Brian had tears in his eyes. “No, dad,” he said softly. “He doesn’t drink or anything, and most of the time he talks to people who aren’t there. He needs help.”
Gary was ashamed of himself, mostly because he couldn’t admit that there was a part of him that was jealous of Carl and his easy friendship with his son.
He did some investigating and discovered that Carl had a sister in a neighboring state who had been looking for him for years. He contacted Carl’s sister and she was overjoyed.
She took Carl home and enrolled him in an outpatient mental health clinic immediately. Goblin went too, of course. Brian missed Carl, but mostly he missed Goblin.
Then one day his dad came home with a big grin on his face and a strange lump under his jacket. He lifted out a wriggling puppy and presented it to Brian. “There you go,” he said. “You have to name him!”
Brian started crying, he was so happy. “Goblin,” he gasped. “His name is Goblin Two!”
What can we learn from this story?
Don’t make assumptions about people before you know who they are. Gary assumed Carl was a drunk and a danger before he knew anything about him.
Kindness and compassion are the greatest of virtues. Brian’s empathy led him to befriend Carl, and he helped him find his way back home.
I Fell for My Daughter-in-Law’s Grumpy Neighbor, but Thanksgiving Exposed the Awful Truth About Our Relationship – Story of the Day
Living with my son and his unbearable wife was far from the peaceful arrangement I had imagined. But when the grumpy neighbor next door unexpectedly asked me to dinner, everything began to change. Little did I know, a secret plan was unfolding — one that would turn my life upside down.
I had been living with my son Andrew and his ever-resentful wife, Kate, for two weeks. It wasn’t an arrangement either of them had ever wanted, but my accidental, slightly exaggerated leg injury had finally forced Kate’s reluctant consent.
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She opposed it, of course—she had for years—but this time, she had no choice.
Stepping out onto the porch that morning, I spotted her in the yard, raking leaves. Watching her from a distance, I sighed. The poor girl hadn’t the faintest idea what she was doing.
“Kate, you’re doing it all wrong!” I called, raising my voice. She didn’t even look up.
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I assumed she hadn’t heard, so I moved closer, wincing for effect. “I’m telling you, you’re raking them the wrong way. Start with small piles, then combine them into one big heap. Dragging them across the yard is a waste of time.”
She stopped abruptly, leaning on the rake, and turned to face me. Her face betrayed the exhaustion of carrying a child and hosting an unwanted guest.
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“I thought your leg hurt,” she said flatly, her gaze drifting to my suspiciously steady walk. “Maybe it’s time for you to go home?”
The nerve of her! Clutching my leg for emphasis, I replied indignantly, “I was trying to help you, despite the pain, and this is how you thank me?”
Kate rested a hand on her belly, the protective gesture unmistakable. “I’m seven months pregnant. Helping would mean actually doing something useful,” she said, her voice sharper than the autumn air.
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Rude, I thought, but I forced a tight smile. She wasn’t worth the argument.
Across the fence, Mr. Davis, their grouchy neighbor, shuffled into view, his perpetual scowl in place.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Davis!” I chirped, trying to soften his hard expression. He grumbled something under his breath and disappeared into his house without so much as a nod. Just like Kate—miserable and unsociable.
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Back inside, I noticed dust on the furniture again. Kate was on maternity leave—surely, she could spare time to clean. Andrew deserved a better-kept home after all his hard work.
Later, Kate returned to the house and started preparing dinner. Naturally, I offered her a few helpful tips, but my advice seemed to fall on deaf ears. Eventually, she turned and said coldly, “Please, just leave the kitchen.”
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That evening, as Andrew came through the door, I heard her complaining to him. Leaning close to the wall, I caught snippets of their conversation.
“We discussed this,” Andrew said, his tone measured. “It’ll benefit everyone.”
“I know,” Kate replied with a weary sigh. “I’m already trying, but it’s harder than you think.”
When I peeked around the corner, I saw Andrew embracing her, his arms wrapped protectively around her growing belly. He comforted her as if she were the victim here!
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At dinner, I couldn’t resist pointing out that her pie was undercooked.
“I have an idea,” Kate said suddenly, her tone too cheerful to be genuine. “Why don’t you bake a pie yourself and bring it to Mr. Davis?”
I frowned. “That grump? He doesn’t even greet me,” I scoffed, narrowing my eyes at her.
“I think you’re mistaken. He’s not so bad—just shy,” she said, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Besides, I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
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I laughed, the sound hollow. “If that’s true, he’s the one who should make the first move. A man should court a lady.”
Kate sighed, her gaze shifting to Andrew, who squeezed her hand as if sharing a secret.
The next morning, the last thing I expected was to see Mr. Davis approaching the yard.
“Margaret,” he began stiffly, his posture as awkward as his tone. “Would you… well… have dinner with me?”
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“For you, it’s Miss Miller,” I replied, raising an eyebrow.
His lips twitched in frustration. “Alright, Miss Miller,” he corrected himself. “Would you allow me to invite you to dinner?”
“I allow it,” I said, crossing my arms. He nodded curtly and turned to leave.
“Is that how you invite someone?” I called after him, watching him freeze mid-step. “When? Where?”
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“Tonight at seven. My house,” he said without turning back.
The rest of the day was a flurry of preparation. By seven sharp, I stood at his door, my heart unexpectedly fluttering. When he opened the door, his expression was as grim as ever.
Inside, he gestured for me to sit at the table. Not even a pulled-out chair—some gentleman.
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During dinner, the conversation was stilted until I mentioned my love for jazz. His face transformed, his usual gloom replaced by a boyish enthusiasm.
“I’d play my favorite record for you,” he said, his voice softer now. “And I’d even invite you to dance, but my record player’s broken.”
“You don’t need music to dance,” I said, surprising myself.
To my astonishment, he rose and extended his hand. As we swayed in the dim light, he hummed a familiar tune, one I hadn’t heard in years. Something inside me softened, and for the first time in ages, I didn’t feel alone.
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Afterward, I turned to him. “Mr. Davis, it’s getting late. I should go home.”
He nodded silently, his usual reserved demeanor returning, and walked me to the door.
Before I stepped outside, he hesitated. “You can call me Peter,” he said, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it.
“And you can call me Margaret,” I replied, smiling.
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Then, to my astonishment, he leaned in. For a moment, I froze, uncertain, but when his lips brushed mine, I realized I didn’t want to pull away.
The kiss was gentle and hesitant, but it stirred something I hadn’t felt in years.
As he pulled back, he searched my face for a reaction. I simply smiled, my heart lighter than it had been in ages.
“Good night, Peter,” I said softly, stepping outside. The cool night air met my flushed cheeks, but the smile stayed on my face all the way home—and long after.
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Peter became an irreplaceable part of my days. We spent hours together, laughing over neighborhood gossip, reading books from his vast collection, and trying our hands at new recipes.
While I cooked, he’d hum my favorite songs, filling the house with warmth.
I found a joy I hadn’t known in years, a quiet contentment that made everything else fade.
Kate’s sharp remarks no longer bothered me; my world revolved around Peter.
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On Thanksgiving, I invited him to dinner so he wouldn’t spend the day alone. I noticed him slipping into the kitchen to speak with Kate. Curious, I followed.
“Kate, I wanted to talk to you about the record player,” Peter said, his voice hesitant but firm.
“Mr. Davis, I’ve already ordered it. It’ll arrive soon. You have no idea how grateful I am,” Kate replied with a hint of relief. “You’ve made my life so much easier. I don’t know how you put up with her, but soon the record player will be yours. Thank you for agreeing to this whole charade.”
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The words hit me like a slap. A record player? Putting up with me? A charade? The realization burned through me as anger surged.
“So, this was all a game?!” I burst into the kitchen, my voice trembling with fury.
Kate froze, her face pale. “Oh…” was all she managed.
“Care to explain?!” I shouted, my gaze darting between her and Peter.
Andrew rushed in, his brow furrowed in concern. “What’s going on?”
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“Your wife concocted some scheme against me!” I exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at Kate.
Andrew sighed deeply. It was as if he was bracing himself for a storm. “Mom, it wasn’t just her. It was my idea too. We thought you and Mr. Davis might make each other happy. Neither of you would have made the first move, so we gave him a little… encouragement.”
“Encouragement?” I repeated, my voice rising.
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“We offered him a record player,” Andrew admitted, his tone measured but guilty. “In exchange for going on dates with you.”
“Andrew, why?” Kate whispered.
“At least my son is honest with me!” I snapped, crossing my arms.
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“Your son was also at his wit’s end with you!” Kate shot back, her voice tinged with frustration. “You were constantly interfering in our lives, nitpicking every little thing I did. And I’m pregnant with your grandchild—I couldn’t handle the stress! So yes, we came up with this plan, and it worked perfectly. You finally had something to do, and I got a break!”
Her words hung in the air, stinging more than I cared to admit. I shook my head, disbelief coursing through me. “You know what, Peter? I could have expected this from her. But not from you.”
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“Margaret, I can explain…” Peter began, stepping toward me.
But I was too angry to listen. I stormed out of the house, my old leg injury reminding me of its presence with every step.
“Margaret!” Peter called after me. “Margaret, wait!”
Spinning around, I glared at him. “What?! What could you possibly say? I’m too old for these games!”
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He stopped, his face clouded with regret. “I told Kate I didn’t need her record player! That I just wanted to be with you!” he shouted, his voice raw with emotion.
“That doesn’t change the fact that you agreed to it at first,” I retorted, my voice trembling.
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“Because you were awful!” Peter snapped, then softened. “Or at least, that’s what I thought. I heard how you constantly picked on Kate, always telling her what to do. But the truth is, I wasn’t any better—grumpy, closed off, and bitter. You changed me, Margaret. You made me feel alive again. You reminded me how to find joy in the little things.”
I hesitated, his words piercing through my anger. “Why should I believe you?” I asked, my voice quieter now.
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Peter stepped closer, his gaze steady. “Because I’ve fallen for you, Margaret. For the meticulous, bossy, always-right woman who also cares so deeply, who cooks meals that feel like home, and who knows all my favorite songs by heart. I love you—all of you.”
Tears welled in my eyes, his confession shaking me to my core. The truth was undeniable—I had fallen for him too. No matter how furious I was, my feelings wouldn’t let me walk away.
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He reached out, gently brushing a tear from my cheek. “I’m sorry for hurting you. Please, give me a second chance.”
I nodded slowly, letting the tension ease. “Alright,” I said, my voice softening. “But you’re keeping that record player from Kate. We’ll need it for our music.” Peter laughed, relief and joy washing over his face.
From that Thanksgiving on, Peter and I were inseparable. Each year, we celebrated the holiday with music playing on that record player, our love growing stronger with every tune.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: While navigating a difficult divorce, Ellis meets a bold young man at a bar who offers to transform her life. His charm and confidence seem like the perfect distraction, but their connection soon leads to unexpected revelations that force Ellis to confront her past — and her family — in ways she never anticipated.
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