Rachel, from Northallerton, Yorkshire, England was an extremely old woman who had no family still living.
Her only companion and friend was a little brown dog, Slats, who went everywhere with her, with one exception. Slats loved the open fireplace in winter, and after the old woman went to bed he would sometimes go and lie in the hearth in front of the warm coals. Usually though, the dog slept at the very edge of the bed on a throw rug.
Rachel wouldn't allow the dog on the bed with her, but if she became frightened or had a nightmare, she would put her hand down to the little brown dog and he would lick it reassuringly.
One dark night Rachel was reading her newspaper just before going to sleep. She shivered and pulled the bedclothes up around her as she read that a mental patient had wandered off from the nearby Broadmoor asylum. No one knew if the patient was dangerous of not; he was a suspect in the murders of several women who had lived alone.
Rachel turned out the lights and tried to sleep, but she was frightened, and kept thinking of the news report; she tossed and turned fitfully.
Finally, she reached down to where the little brown dog slept. Sure enough, a warm, wet tongue began to lick her hand. The woman felt reassured and safe, and left her hand dangling off the bed as she turned and settled in comfortably. She opened her eyes for a moment and looked through the open door into the living room.
There in front of the fireplace, sat Slats, gazing at the coals and wagging his tail.
Down beside the bed, something was still licking her hand.
