Hogsmeade
6 November 1994

Dear Arabella,

How are you and darling Mr Tibbles? I'm sorry I haven't been down to visit you for so long, but it's so hard to be sure the doggies are properly taken care of that I can't get away often. The neighbours are so irate as it is, complaining about how the dogs get into the rubbish bins and rootle things about — I have told them time and time again, that if they will leave the trash lids half-ajar, the neighbours mustn't be surprised if the dogs have a sniff. It's in their nature, they can't possibly help it. One might as well scold a broom for dropping bristles in mid-air.

There's a new dog in Hogsmeade, and I don't know where he came from. He's a shy wee fellow... well, no, one can't possibly call him "wee". He's quite a LARGE dog, and we first became acquainted when he was nosing through the rubbish bin (where else?) looking for scraps. I was puttering about the garden when I heard Alfred Farraghan — you remember him, he's the one who tried to have Spotland, my Dalmatian, impounded as a "public nuisance" — bellowing about some "cursed dog", followed by "Nan Mopsy! I want a WORD with you!"

Well, Alfred and I have had many words before, most of them not repeatable, so I dusted my skirt off and went to see what the daft fool wanted this time. He had this poor animal held tight by the scruff of its neck, and it was panting dreadfully, tongue almost to the ground and coated from thirst. I've seen a few dogs in my day, as you know, but I have never seen such a thin, malnourished beastie. I could see the bones poking out almost through the fur, he was so ribby. The dog then looked up at me and I completely lost the thread of Alfred's ranting, because... oh, Arabella. I have never, NEVER seen a dog with such speaking eyes. He's one of those great dogs who have those strange pale eyes, rather than brown ones, so he must have some Husky or Malamute in him. There's tremendous personality behind them, great force. An alpha dog fallen on hard times, I think. He must miss his family or pack a great deal.

Anyway, I told Alfred exactly what I thought of him manhandling this poor dog, and of course Alfred puffed himself up and proceeded to rail on worse than ever. I told him quite sharply that 1) the dog had not been mine before; 2) that as far as I was concerned the dog was now mine, given his appalling treatment by his previous owners, if he'd had any; and 3) that Alfred should mind his own damned business and keep his eye on his own daughters who are getting entirely too interested in the wandplay of young wizards, if you take my meaning. Those sixth and seventh years from Hogwarts are trouble on two legs, FAR more bother than any four-legged animal could ever be.

After Alfred stomped off in his usual temper, I spoke to the dog softly, telling him to bide a bit and I'd get him some food and water. He tiredly flicked his tail — he's very intelligent and understands what's said to him — and I saw him follow me at a distance from the corner of my eye. I got him a bowl of water and a good chunk of mutton and it vanished in thirty seconds flat. He licked my hand and his chops, and wagged his tail again with a little more energy. He looked up, and I will swear on anything you care to name that he said "Thank you." You cannot tell me that dogs don't feel gratitude.

I settled him down in front of the fire — well, he collapsed like a load of exhausted bricks in front of it, and I let him stay there, keeping the other dogs outside so they wouldn't bother him. He snored away and I let him sleep to his heart's content, poor dear. I do like to hear a dog snore. It sounds so cosy, and a dog is far less trouble than a husband any day. When he woke up again, I stuffed him into the bath before he could wake entirely up. He's very docile. He didn't put up a bit of fuss while I bathed him. I shouldn't have been able to lift a dog that size on my own, but he is so light and thin! He barely had the strength to shake himself off afterwards, so I towelled him off and he was quite appreciative, to judge by his tail wag.

Underneath all that dirt and muck was a black dog! You couldn't have told his fur colour before, he was so spattered and dusty and even bloody. He cleaned up beautifully. I think his fur will be wonderfully glossy once it's had time to get a bit of lustre back. He's a grand dog for cold weather with such thick fur, though he must be dreadfully overheated during summer. He has a rather wolvy look about him, except for those pale eyes. All told, he's a handsome lad.

I haven't quite decided what to name this new dog yet. He must have wandered far away from his home to get in such a state. He's a sweet-natured animal, but wary. He seems to crave human companionship and at the same time to be very skittery of it. I'd like to get my hands on whoever mistreated him and just WRING their necks. He shan't suffer any longer as long as I can help it. He's my dog now, for as long as he wants to be. Alfred will just have to learn to live with him, because I am not giving him up. Not for all the Galleons in Gringotts.

If no one is left to love this dog, then I will.

Your friend and fellow animal-lover,

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written by Teka Lynn
May 28, 2004

All rights to the characters and setting are held by J K Rowling and whoever else holds them, including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, and Warner Bros. This fanwork was created solely for fun and has no legal or financial connection to the Harry Potter novels.

In her official site, JKRowling introduce us to Mopsy the dog-lover, a character originally created for GoF and later discarded: "When Padfoot returns in 'Goblet of Fire', I initially had him stay with a highly- eccentric, dog-loving old witch on the edge of Hogsmeade. She kept a pack of ill-assorted dogs, was on constant bad terms with her neighbours because of the barking and the mess, and had welcomed in Sirius, assuming him to be a stray. I think my editor was quite right to ask me to get rid of Mopsy, because she added nothing to the plot. I just liked portraying a batty dog-lover (as opposed to batty cat-lover Mrs. Figg). However, it made more sense to stow Sirius in a nice simple cave to have Harry, Ron, Hermione and Sirius's chat about Barty Crouch Jnr. without distractions."
JKR originally named her Mopsy. Teka Lynn decided to make this her last name and give her the first name of Anna, nicknamed Nan.