I’ve been afraid of mice since childhood. No, in cartoons, they’re awfully cute and amusing. But if a real, live mouse crosses my path, I’m ashamed to admit it, but I start squealing.
This fear of mice was the main reason I was reluctant to agree to move to a new house in a suburban community. The move was prompted by the fact that my husband and I decided to give our city apartment to our son, who by then already had a wife and our newborn grandson. Their family was growing dearer to me, and to my husband, with each passing day. Remembering how we, in our youth, dreamed of starting our own home and how hard it was to afford our own apartment, we decided to make things easier for our son’s family by giving them our place in the city center. We already had a car, which gave us freedom: public transport was no longer a concern. We had enough savings to buy a cottage and household appliances. For our housewarming, our son and daughter-in-law gave us a splendid gift: furniture for the living room and kitchen-dining area. And they gave us another gift: a kitten.
A ginger tabby, small enough to fit in the palm of my hand, named Nicholas by me, the kitten quickly grew into a stately, imposing cat. I immediately realized: mice wouldn’t dare come near our house now. Neither to the right nor the left, in the neighboring cottages, did Nicholas have any rivals. A potential threat—a dog—he’d probably never even seen in the flesh.
That is, until new owners moved into the cottage on the right—a young family. They bought it from an elderly couple, both university professors. Upon retiring, the couple agreed to move in with their daughter, who had been living with her husband and two children in Spain for about ten years, I suppose. They put the cottage up for sale, and it was quickly snapped up by the young family. The cottage suited them perfectly. They didn’t make any renovations. The only change was that Anna, the young homeowner, replaced the classic flowerbed with an alpine rock garden. And her rock garden wasn’t entirely traditional: at its peak, right in the center, grew a juniper bush, which, it turned out, gave off a slightly tart aroma that wafted over to our place.
We got to know the newcomers. We occasionally visited each other. And Anna once confided in me that she had been struggling with infertility for several years.
— I so want to be a mother! And Nathan dreams of a child too, — she said, barely holding back tears.
— Anna, dear, — I tried to comfort her, — sometimes people wait for decades. The main thing is, you have to believe!
That summer, Anna and Nathan went on vacation and left me their keys, asking me to check on their house. They had turned off the water, gas, and electricity. But you never know! I even asked how often to water her alpine rock garden. Anna, grateful that I was taking on this task too, explained and showed me where to connect the hose.
I didn’t so much hear their return as I heard the cheerful barking: Anna was carrying a tiny cocker spaniel in her arms.
— Hello! — she said. — We’re not alone. Meet our new resident, Teddy.
— Is that a cocker spaniel? — I ventured, showing off my knowledge of dog breeds.
— Yes, a little spaniel. We bought him on the highway. He was sitting alone in a box next to a boy. The boy said his mom wouldn’t let them keep the whole litter. So he was finding homes for the puppies. This one was the smallest…
And so, we gained another neighbor—a cocker spaniel named Teddy. What a charming creature! Restless, curious, and everywhere at once, his bark wasn’t a bark but more like the chime of a bell. Not only did his owners adore him, but everyone in the community who met Teddy on his walks loved him too. If there’s ever a dog completely devoid of aggression, it would have to be like Teddy. In any case, Teddy’s arrival brightened Anna’s life. Not a full substitute for the child she never stopped dreaming of, but still, a little one in the house.
Then one day, Anna called and asked me to stop by. I was surprised: it wasn’t even three in the afternoon, and Anna wasn’t at work. Was she ill? I hurried over. Teddy greeted me first, barking joyfully, jumping up, making it impossible not to pick him up. So, with Teddy in my arms, I entered Anna’s house. She was radiant and said right away:
— I just came from the women’s clinic. Can you believe it, I’m seven weeks along! I can’t wait for Nathan to get home…
— I’m so thrilled for you! — I said, genuinely feeling joy for both Anna and Nathan.
In mid-January, Nathan brought his wife and their son, whom they had long decided to name Michael, home from the hospital. I rarely saw Anna after that, unless she invited me over herself. So, I got to see how Michael was growing. And I was amazed by Teddy time and again: the moment Anna told the spaniel that Michael was sleeping and needed quiet, that little reddish-fawn marvel would tiptoe around the house, not making a sound.
Once, Anna showed me how Teddy played with Michael. The boy was lying in his crib, and the spaniel was rolling a rattle in front of him, making sure Michael could see it. And Michael, indeed, followed it with his eyes, blowing bubbles in delight.
But then, somehow, Anna caught a cold. She developed mastitis. They managed to treat it, but she could no longer breastfeed Michael. Cautiously, they switched to formula. Nathan comforted his wife as best he could. But she blamed herself and often cried. Nathan, without telling her, consulted a well-known obstetrician in the city. The doctor expressed concern that his wife might be at risk of postpartum depression.
— How can we prevent it? — Nathan’s anxiety only grew.
The doctor advised him to keep his wife busy with work—work she was familiar with, the kind she did before maternity leave. Around that time, the company Nathan owned, where Anna managed one of the departments, landed a big contract. If successful, the company stood to gain a substantial financial reward, which could enable them to open a branch in the region. Anna knew about this—Nathan always kept her in the loop about the company’s affairs. And now, he turned to his wife directly:
— Anna, listen to me! — he said. — If you only knew how much the company needs you right now! Since you’re not breastfeeding Michael, maybe you could help us out?
— I understand, Nathan, — Anna replied, fully grasping her husband’s point. — We’ll probably do that. But first, we need to find a nanny.
The whole company helped search for a nanny. They settled on an agency that operated officially, specializing in finding domestic staff, including nannies. For every potential candidate, the agency provided verified dossiers—from personal details and references to photographs. Special attention was paid to medical records, ensuring no nanny could have any, let alone infectious, diseases. Anna and Nathan visited the agency together, reviewing about a dozen applications. They narrowed it down to two candidates and set a day for their first meetings.
The first to arrive was a middle-aged woman. But the conversation was cut short: her phone rang, she apologized, and stepped away to take the call. When she returned, she looked shaken. She apologized again, saying:
— They called from home. I’m sorry, I won’t be able to work due to family circumstances.
The same day, the second candidate arrived. A young woman, just over twenty, pleasant-looking, with clear and proper speech. She explained that she was studying part-time at a college for early childhood education. This would be her fifth child to care for, if hired, and she’d be delighted to take on the role.
They liked the young woman. Anna began briefing her on the duties. The nanny’s responsibilities were solely to care for Michael—no laundry, no cleaning. Just preparing formula, feeding on schedule, keeping the baby clean, and daily walks.
The nanny, whose name was Tanya, asked permission to hold Michael. She carefully picked him up and was about to say something when Teddy suddenly ran up, barking loudly. Nathan scolded the spaniel, but Michael had already woken up and started crying. Tanya deftly shifted the boy from one arm to the other and began gently rocking him. Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Teddy whimpered plaintively…
Anna and Nathan gradually got used to leaving Michael at home with the nanny. When they returned from work, they found their son clean, with a row of washed bottles indicating he’d been fed. In short, Anna increasingly resisted the urge to call home from work to check on Michael. She threw herself into the project with her characteristic zeal, inspiring her colleagues.
The only thing that worried Nathan, and especially Anna, was Teddy. In the mornings, as soon as Tanya approached the gate, the(spaniel would start barking and wouldn’t stop. Teddy barked while Tanya took off her shoes in the hallway, then as she went upstairs to the nursery. He followed her, keeping his distance, barking hoarsely. Neither Anna nor Nathan had ever known Teddy to bark so viciously. Tanya, meanwhile, spoke to the dog gently:
— Oh, Teddy, what’s wrong? Calm down! You’re a good boy!
But Teddy didn’t respond to her kindness. If anything, he barked even more fiercely. Then Anna noticed that Teddy wasn’t eating. Early in the morning, before Tanya arrived, they let him run around the yard. He’d come back, drink water, and eat his food. During the day, at their request, Tanya would put out another portion of food for Teddy. But it remained untouched until the evening, when the owners returned from work. On the way to work one day, Nathan said to Anna:
— Teddy’s acting strange… He doesn’t accept Tanya. How long can he keep barking at her?
— Yeah, I’ve noticed, — Anna agreed. — If it weren’t for his barking at the nanny, I wouldn’t even know Teddy could sound so angry, hoarse like that.
— We should stop by the vet after work, — Nathan suggested. — Maybe something’s wrong with Teddy…
They did. The elderly veterinarian, who knew Teddy from administering his vaccinations, listened to them and said he couldn’t diagnose a health issue without examining the dog. They agreed to bring Teddy in the next day or so. As they were leaving, the vet added:
— A dog might react like that to someone it doesn’t like.
Nathan joked:
— Maybe the nanny’s not to his taste…
On Saturday, Nathan took Teddy to the vet. I happened to be outside checking the mailbox when I saw the dog, wagging his tail joyfully, hop into the car. I greeted Nathan and asked:
— Is Teddy going with you to the market?
Nathan replied:
— No, I’m taking him to the vet.
And he drove off. Like everyone in the community, I loved that dog. So I decided to stop by Anna’s and find out what was wrong. Anna welcomed me into the living room, where Michael, now bigger, sat in his playpen, focused on playing with colorful blocks. A chubby-cheeked, big-eyed baby, calm and absorbed.
— The nanny must be taking good care of Michael, — I said.
— Yes, — Anna agreed. — We got lucky. Though, the nanny will leave us in June—she’s studying part-time, and she has exams. But we’re taking vacation, so we’ll wait for Tanya. Maybe she’ll come back to us after.
— What’s wrong with Teddy? Is he sick?
Anna then complained that she barely recognized the dog. The gentle, playful pup would erupt into ferocious barking at the nanny. He could sense her approach from a distance and start barking loudly. When she entered the house, he’d almost lunge at her. And it went on the whole time she was there.
I remembered that since the windows in their cottage had been left open for ventilation all day with the arrival of spring, I, too, had heard Teddy’s barking. Several times a day. And it was indeed fierce, desperate. I mentioned this to Anna.
***
Nathan brought Teddy home and told his wife the spaniel was healthy, nothing to worry about. All Saturday and Sunday, Teddy acted as usual, his bark unheard. But that lasted only until Monday morning when the nanny approached the house. The owners hadn’t even seen her yet, she hadn’t rung the gate, but Teddy tensed, tucked his tail, bared his teeth. The moment Tanya stepped into the yard, the spaniel began growling and barking viciously.
On the way to work, one thought haunted Anna: Teddy disliked the nanny for a specific reason. But what? During her lunch break, Anna went to the agency that had provided Tanya. She spoke with the manager, curious about how long Tanya had worked with previous families. The reviews were positive. But one thing stood out: Tanya would terminate her contracts of her own accord as soon as the child neared their first birthday.
“Why change jobs so consistently?” Anna wondered.
The answer that came to her was terrifying:
“Could it be because a one-year-old child still can’t speak?”
Anna tried to dismiss the thought. But her doubts about the nanny grew. Not just doubts—fear for Michael was mounting. Anna steadied herself and, entering Nathan’s office, tried to calmly share her concerns. But she only managed to start calmly. Then she broke down in tears. She imagined horrific scenarios. Nathan realized this wasn’t just panic. If it was merely her overactive imagination, it needed to be debunked quickly. But if it was true…
That evening, an IT specialist from their company came over and installed discreetly hidden surveillance cameras in every room. And here’s the thing: a complete stranger, who’d never been to their house, arrived, and Teddy behaved calmly, even warmly. With Tanya, he’d never been like that, not once…
Anna could barely get through the next workday. She urged Nathan to hurry, and they finally made it home after sitting in traffic. They dismissed Tanya, took Michael, with Teddy joining them, and began watching what Anna later called a horror movie—the footage recorded by the surveillance cameras. When I saw it, I completely agreed with Anna: it was nothing short of a horror movie.
On the screen, it played out like this: Tanya, locking the door behind the owners, went upstairs to the nursery under Teddy’s frantic barking. She roughly checked Michael’s diaper. Seeing it needed changing, she yanked him from the crib and placed him on the changing table. The boy began crying. Teddy practically threw himself at her feet, barking nonstop. The nanny kicked the dog. Teddy yelped but immediately lunged at her again. Then the nanny put the crying Michael back in the crib, grabbed a footstool, and, swinging it, chased Teddy out of the nursery. She slammed the door. Michael wailed loudly. Behind the door, Teddy barked just as loudly and, there’s no other word for it, mournfully, unable to protect Michael.
— Shut up, both of you! — the nanny screamed.
At that moment, someone called her. As she spoke on the phone, she periodically yelled at Michael:
— Will you shut your mouth or not! All day like this.
That was her interaction with the child and the dog, I mean. Yes, the nanny fed Michael. She changed him again. Put him down to sleep twice. All seemingly on schedule. He cried more quietly over time, then only whimpered, and finally fell asleep.
Then Tanya would go downstairs, heat up her lunch, and drink coffee. Meanwhile, Teddy would slip into the nursery and lie on the floor by the crib. The nanny kept talking and talking on the phone, mostly about her own affairs. But she didn’t forget to curse Michael. And she especially targeted Teddy, who, in her words, was a thorn in her side:
— That dog’s such a pest! Worse than the kid! I’d poison him if I could! — she said to someone.
The entire video left Anna sobbing so hard that Nathan was about to call an ambulance. Only that snapped Anna out of it. The next morning, as soon as Teddy barked, signaling the nanny’s imminent arrival, they didn’t open the gate. Nathan stepped outside, handed her the money owed, and told her never to come back. Tanya put on an innocent, hurt expression, even squeezed out some tears, but Nathan had already closed the gate and headed back to the house. Teddy ran to meet him, as if saying:
— Finally! I tried to warn you!
That day, Anna stayed home with Michael. She’d work from home now. Nathan would go to the agency that had provided Tanya and leave them a copy of the video. But most importantly, and rightly so, Nathan would upload the footage online. They’d blur only Michael’s face. The nanny would be shown unedited: everyone needed to see her face, hear her voice, know her vocabulary. Nathan would also leave his contact information. He’d receive countless words of gratitude: such a practical lesson was essential for those hiring nannies and for nannies who might ever dare treat a child that way.
But the real star would be Teddy—the charming spaniel with a big, brave heart. So big that he fearlessly threw himself to protect a little boy. A boy too young to even tell how badly he was treated by that cruel woman who so skillfully deceived his parents.
True, there’d be a couple of dissenting comments claiming the surveillance camera violated human rights. Nathan didn’t respond to those. Other parents did—those who’d been in Anna and Nathan’s shoes or were searching for a nanny for their own child.
If you boiled their responses down to a single, collective statement, it would be short and clear: how can someone like that be allowed near children?
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