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 Almost Left after Seeing Our Baby – But Then My Wife Revealed a Secret That Changed Everything
When Marcus first sees his newborn baby, his world shatters. Convinced his wife Elena has betrayed him, he’s ready to walk away. But before he can, she reveals a secret that leaves him questioning everything. Is love enough to hold them together?
I was ecstatic the day my wife announced that we were going to be parents. We’d been trying for a while and couldn’t wait to welcome our first child into the world. But one day, as we were discussing the birth plan, Elena dropped a bombshell.
A pregnant woman on a sofa | Source: Midjourney
“I don’t want you in the delivery room,” she said, her voice soft but firm.
I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. “What? Why not?”
Elena wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I just… I need to do this part on my own. Please understand.”
I didn’t understand, not really. But I loved Elena more than anything, and I trusted her. If this was what she needed, I’d respect it. Still, a tiny seed of unease planted itself in my gut that day.
A frowning man | Source: Midjourney
As Elena’s due date approached, that seed grew. The night before she was scheduled to be induced, I tossed and turned, unable to shake the feeling that something big was about to change.
The next morning, we headed to the hospital. I kissed Elena at the entrance to the maternity ward, watching as they wheeled her away.
Hours ticked by. I paced the waiting room, drank too much bad coffee, and checked my phone every two minutes. Finally, a doctor emerged. One look at his face, and my heart plummeted. Something was wrong.
A doctor | Source: Pexels
“Mr. Johnson?” he said, his voice grave. “You’d better come with me.”
I followed the doctor down the hallway as a thousand horrible scenarios raced through my mind. Was Elena okay? The baby? We reached the delivery room, and the doctor pushed open the door. I rushed in, desperate to see Elena.
She was there, looking exhausted but alive. Relief washed over me for a split second before I noticed the bundle in her arms.
A woman holding her newborn baby | Source: Midjourney
The baby, our baby, had skin as pale as fresh snow, wisps of blonde hair, and when it opened its eyes, they were startlingly blue.
“What the hell is this?” I heard myself say, my voice sounding strange and far away.
Elena looked up at me, her eyes filled with a mix of love and fear. “Marcus, I can explain—”
An emotional woman | Source: Midjourney
But I wasn’t listening. A red haze of anger and betrayal descended over me. “Explain what? That you cheated on me? That this isn’t my kid?”
“No! Marcus, please—”
I cut her off, my voice rising. “Don’t lie to me, Elena! I’m not an idiot. That is not our baby!”
A grim man | Source: Pexels
Nurses bustled around us, trying to calm the situation, but I was beyond reason. I felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest. How could she do this to me? To us?
“Marcus!” Elena’s sharp voice cut through my rage. “Look at the baby. Really look.”
Something in her tone made me pause. I glanced down as Elena gently turned the baby, pointing to its right ankle.
A baby’s feet | Source: Pexels
There, clear as day, was a small crescent-shaped birthmark. Identical to the one I’d had since birth, and that other members of my family had, too.
The fight drained out of me in an instant, replaced by utter confusion. “I don’t understand,” I whispered.
Elena took a deep breath. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something I should have told you years ago.”
A woman glancing to the side | Source: Midjourney
As the baby quieted, Elena began to explain.
During our engagement, she’d undergone some genetic testing. The results showed she carried a rare recessive gene that could cause a child to have pale skin and light features, regardless of the parents’ appearance.
“I didn’t tell you because the odds were so slim,” she said, her voice trembling. “And I didn’t think it would matter. We loved each other, and that was all that counted.”
A serious woman | Source: Midjourney
I sank into a chair, my head spinning. “But how…?”
“You must carry the gene too,” Elena explained.
“Both parents can carry it without knowing, and then…” She gestured to our baby.
A baby | Source: Pexels
Our little girl was now sleeping peacefully, oblivious to the turmoil around her.
I stared at the child. The birthmark was undeniable proof, but my brain was having trouble catching up.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you,” Elena said, tears streaming down her face. “I was scared, and then as time passed, it seemed less and less important. I never imagined this would actually happen.”
A woman crying | Source: Pexels
I wanted to be angry. Part of me still was. But as I looked at Elena, exhausted and vulnerable, and at our tiny, perfect baby, I felt something else growing stronger. Love. Fierce, protective love.
I stood up and moved to the bed, wrapping my arms around both of them. “We’ll figure this out,” I murmured into Elena’s hair. “Together.”
Little did I know, our challenges were just beginning.
Bringing our baby home should have been a joyous occasion. Instead, it felt like walking into a war zone.
A suburban house | Source: Pexels
My family had been chomping at the bit to meet the newest addition. But when they laid eyes on our pale-skinned, blonde-haired bundle of joy, all hell broke loose.
“What kind of joke is this?” my mother, Denise, demanded, her eyes narrowing as she looked from the baby to Elena.
I stepped in front of my wife, shielding her from the accusatory glares. “It’s not a joke, Mom. This is your grandchild.”
My sister Tanya scoffed. “Come on, Marcus. You can’t seriously expect us to believe that.”
A skeptical woman | Source: Pexels
“It’s true,” I insisted, trying to keep my voice calm. “Elena and I both carry a rare gene. The doctor explained everything.”
But they weren’t listening. My brother Jamal pulled me aside, speaking in a low voice. “Bro, I know you love her, but you gotta face facts. That ain’t your kid.”
I shook him off, anger rising in my chest. “It is my kid, Jamal. Look at the birthmark on the ankle. It’s just like mine.”
A man gesturing to a crib | Source: Midjourney
But no matter how many times I explained, showed them the birthmark, or pleaded for understanding, my family remained skeptical.
Every visit turned into an interrogation, with Elena bearing the brunt of their suspicion.
One night, about a week after we’d brought the baby home, I woke to the sound of the nursery door creaking open. Instantly alert, I crept down the hallway, only to find my mother leaning over the crib.
A baby in a crib | Source: Pexels
“What are you doing?” I hissed, startling her.
Mom jumped back, looking guilty. In her hand was a damp washcloth. With a sickening jolt, I realized she’d been trying to rub off the birthmark, convinced it was fake.
“That’s enough,” I said, my voice shaking with rage. “Get out. Now.”
“Marcus, I was just—”
“Out!” I repeated, louder this time.
A man pointing to the door | Source: Midjourney
As I ushered her towards the front door, Elena appeared in the hallway, looking worried. “What’s going on?”
I explained what had happened, watching as hurt and anger flashed across Elena’s face. She’d been so patient, so understanding in the face of my family’s doubts. But this was a step too far.
“I think it’s time your family left,” Elena said quietly.
I nodded, turning to face my mother. “Mom, I love you, but this has to stop. Either you accept our child or you don’t get to be part of our lives. It’s that simple.”
A man speaking to his mother | Source: Midjourney
Denise’s face hardened. “You’re choosing her over your own family?”
“No,” I said firmly. “I’m choosing Elena and our baby over your prejudice and suspicion.”
As I closed the door behind her, I felt a mixture of relief and sadness. I loved my family, but I couldn’t let their doubts poison our happiness any longer.
Elena and I relaxed on the couch, both emotionally drained. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, pulling her close. “I should have stood up to them sooner.”
A couple relaxing on the sofa | Source: Pexels
She leaned into me, sighing. “It’s not your fault. I understand why they’re having trouble accepting it. I just wish…”
“I know,” I said, kissing the top of her head. “Me too.”
The next few weeks were a blur of sleepless nights, diaper changes, and tense phone calls from family members.
One afternoon, as I was rocking the baby to sleep, Elena approached me with a determined look in her eye.
“I think we should get a DNA test,” she said quietly.
An earnest woman | Source: Midjourney
I felt a pang in my chest. “Elena, we don’t need to prove anything to anyone. I know this is our child.”
She sat down next to me, taking my free hand in hers. “I know you believe that, Marcus. And I love you for it. But your family won’t let this go. Maybe if we have proof, they’ll finally accept us.”
She was right. The constant doubt was eating away at all of us.
“Okay,” I said finally. “Let’s do it.”
A thoughtful man | Source: Pexels
Finally, the day arrived. We sat in the doctor’s office, Elena clutching the baby to her chest, me holding her hand so tightly I was afraid I might be hurting her. The doctor entered with a folder in his hand, his face unreadable.
“Mr. and Mrs. Johnson,” he began, “I have your results here.”
I held my breath, suddenly terrified. What if, by some cosmic joke, the test came back negative? How would I handle that?
A concerned man | Source: Pexels
The doctor opened the folder and smiled. “The DNA test confirms that you, Mr. Johnson, are indeed the father of this child.”
Relief washed over me like a tidal wave. I turned to Elena, who was crying silently, a mix of joy and vindication on her face. I pulled them both into a hug, feeling like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.
Armed with the test results, I called a family meeting.
A man staring at his mother | Source: Midjourney
My mother, siblings, and a few aunts and uncles gathered in our living room, eyeing the baby with a mixture of curiosity and lingering doubt.
I stood in front of them, test results in hand. “I know you’ve all had your doubts,” I began, my voice steady. “But it’s time to put them to rest. We’ve had a DNA test done.”
I passed the results around, watching as they read the undeniable truth. Some looked shocked, others embarrassed. My mother’s hands shook as she held the paper.
“I… I don’t understand,” she said weakly. ” All that recessive gene stuff was true?”
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
“Of course it was,” I replied.
One by one, my family members offered their apologies. Some were heartfelt, others awkward, but all seemed genuine. My mother was the last to speak.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, tears in her eyes. “Can you ever forgive me?”
Elena, always more gracious than I could ever be, stood up and hugged her. “Of course we can,” she said softly. “We’re family.”
A woman speaking to her daughter-in-law | Source: Midjourney
As I watched them embrace, with our baby cooing softly between them, I felt a sense of peace settle over me. Our little family might not look like what everyone expected, but it was ours. And in the end, that was all that mattered.
Here’s another story: I was driving home when I saw a little girl on a school bus, banging on the back window in terror. My world stopped. Something was terribly wrong. But what danger could a little child possibly be in on a seemingly safe school bus? I chased the bus to find out, only for my heart to skip a beat.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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