His fingers gripped into Murphy’s fur as if it were the only thing holding him here, and his breathing became steady.

“Once he found her,” Walter whispered. “In the snow.” when no one else took me seriously.

We initially thought the morphine was speaking. I thought there was more to it, though, because of the soft, pained tone in his voice.

Over the next three days, Walter’s strength increased. Though lucid, not healthy. He could converse briefly while sipping soup.

Murphy was always by his side, always on guard, cuddling up close every night and wagging his tail whenever Walter woke up.

Walter summoned me over on the third day.

He said, “Nurse, do you have a moment?” I came up with a chair.

He questioned, “Do you think a dog can save someone’s life?”

I looked at Murphy. “I believe I’m witnessing evidence.”

Walter gave a small smile. “I wasn’t saved by Murphy. He kept her safe.”

“Your spouse?” I enquired.

“No. My neighbour. Lizzie. Twelve or thirteen years ago. She vanished. People believed she had fled. However, I knew she didn’t.”

I listened intently as I drew closer.

She was sixteen years old. A little wild-spirited. Good, though. When my arthritis flared up, he used to walk Murphy for me. called me “Mr. W.”and claimed that I made her think of her grandfather.

She disappeared one day. She most likely departed with a boy, according to the police. Her mother didn’t ask many questions about it. However, I simply sensed something wasn’t right.

Every morning, Murphy and I searched. No one bothers to go through the woods or around the quarry. Everyone claimed that I was squandering time.

He hesitated. One day, however, Murphy came to a halt—frozen at the ridge. Two barks. I glanced down. a scarf. Caught up in brambles.

Walter got tears in his eyes.

She had fallen into a ditch. barely conscious. freezing. but still alive.

It seemed almost unbelievable to me.

She was harmed by her stepfather. That night, she attempted to run. He trailed behind. He abandoned her to perish in the desert. Murphy, however, located her.

After that, he says, “She stayed with me for a while.”

The system then moved her to a different location. We spent some time writing. However, life went on. She shifted. I became older. Sicker. Nevertheless, Murphy seemed to be hoping it was her each time we met someone new.

“Only she ever referred to him as a guardian angel.”

I told another nurse the story that evening.

An old story titled “Dog Leads Elderly Man to Missing Teen” was discovered by her. There was a picture of a girl under a blanket crying, with Walter standing behind her and placing his hand on Murphy’s head.

I couldn’t get it off my mind. I therefore anonymously shared the story online. No names.

A brief account of Walter, Murphy, and Lizzie, a girl who referred to a golden retriever as her angel.

A message came three days later.

Lizzie used to be my name. I believe you are referring to me.

She entered Walter’s room gently, accompanied by her daughter, a five-year-old with brilliant eyes. Upon saying, “Mr. W?” He grinned as he looked up.

He told Murphy, “You found her.” “You did, really.”

They spent hours discussing her adopted family, her scholarship, and her work as a music teacher.

She said, “Without you, I wouldn’t be here.”

He gave a headshake. “Murphy.”

Walter became better over the course of the following week—he started eating, sitting up, and sharing more tales. It was hailed as a miracle by all. We knew it was Murphy, though. Lizzie, too.

She didn’t merely stop by.

She returned every day. Alone at times. With her daughter, occasionally. She finally brought paperwork.

“You have always been a member of my family, Mr. W,” she remarked. Now let me take care of you.

Walter made an effort to say no. She persisted, though.

“When no one realised I was missing, you came to my rescue. Allow me to repay you.”

Walter moved into a tiny guest house on her property after receiving permission from the hospital.

Murphy had sunlight, a yard once more, and a new tiny best friend who read to him on the porch and wrapped ribbons around his neck.

For another eighteen months, Walter lived in peace. cherished. secure.

Murphy snuggled up next him when he passed away and remained motionless for hours.

Lizzie, who is now Elena, stood in front of everyone at the funeral and sobbed as she said:

“I wasn’t merely saved by Walter. He had faith in me. when none else did. Murphy also discovered me. Twice.”

She put a stone in her garden the following day:

Murphy—Angel Guardian. Forever, good boy.

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