When I walked into that shelter, I didn’t expect to make a decision that would destroy my marriage. But as I knelt before this frail old dog, I knew one thing: she needed me. And maybe I needed her, too.
Greg and I had been trying for years to fill the void in our marriage. We were together for over a decade, but after every doctor’s visit, after every test that confirmed our worst fears, we heard the same thing: ‘No, you can’t have children.’
We stopped talking about it. But sadness settled between us like an unwelcome guest. We lived near each other but were infinitely distant from each other, both of us pretending not to fall apart.
One evening, sitting across from each other in the semi-darkness of our kitchen, I said:
Why don’t we get a dog?
Greg lifted his head from his plate, looked at me blankly.
A dog?
Something to love,’ I replied softly. – Something to fill the silence.
He exhaled, shook his head.
Okay. Just not some squeaky little thing.
That’s how we ended up at the local shelter.
When we walked in, we were greeted by chaos – dozens of dogs barking, banging their tails, scraping their paws on their cages. All of them wanted attention. All but one.
In the furthest cage, curled up in the shadows, lay Maggie.
She didn’t make a sound. Her frail body barely moved as I knelt in front of the bars. Her fur was spotted, her ribs protruded, and her grey muzzle rested on her paws as if she had already resigned herself to her fate.
I looked at the tag on the cage and my heart squeezed.
Elderly dog – 12 years old – Health problems – Hospice adoption only.
I felt Greg tense up next to me.
‘Come on,’ he snorted. – We’re not taking this one.
But I couldn’t look away. Her tired brown eyes met mine, and her tail twitched slightly.
This one,’ I whispered.
Greg looked at me sharply.
Are you kidding me? Clara, that dog already has one foot in the grave.
She needs us.
She needs a vet and a miracle,’ he parried. – Not a house.
I turned to him.
I can make her happy.
Greg laughed bitterly.
‘If you bring her home, I’ll leave. I’m not going to sit and watch you go crazy over a dying dog. It’s pathetic.
I froze.
You don’t mean it.
I am,’ he replied coldly. – It was either her or me.
I didn’t hesitate.
When I brought Maggie home, Greg was already packing.
She paused uncertainly in the doorway, her frail body trembling as she surveyed her new home. Her paws tapped softly on the parquet floor, and she looked up at me as if to ask: Is this really mine?
It’s okay,’ I whispered, sinking down beside her. – We’ll figure it out.
Greg walked past us, dragging his suitcase behind him.
You’re crazy, Clara,’ he said harshly, but there was something else in his voice-almost desperation. – You’re throwing everything away for that dog.
I didn’t answer.
His hand hovered over the doorknob, waiting. Waiting for me to stop him. To say, ‘You’re right, come back.’
Instead, I undid the leash.
Greg laughed dryly.
Unbelievable.
The door slammed, and the house was quiet again. But for the first time, the silence didn’t feel so empty.
The first weeks had been unbearable.
Maggie was too weak. Sometimes she barely touched her food. I spent hours looking for recipes, preparing soft meals, coaxing her to eat. I massaged her aching joints, wrapped her in blankets, let her sleep next to me on the couch.
When the divorce papers came, I laughed at first. Bitterly, incredulously. He really meant it.
And then I cried.
But Maggie was there. She poked her nose into my palm when I sobbed into my coffee cup, put her head in my lap when the house seemed too big.
Over time, something changed.
She started eating more. Her fur, once dull and sparse, began to shine. And one morning when I took the leash, she wagged her tail.
Shall we go for a walk? – I asked.
She yapped softly.
I smiled for the first time in months.
We were healing. Together.
Six months later.
I walked out of the bookstore, coffee in one hand and a novel in the other, when I bumped into someone.
Clara,’ came a familiar voice.
I froze.
Greg.
He grinned, as if he’d been waiting for this encounter. Dressed too neatly for an ordinary day, his shirt perfectly ironed, his watch gleaming. He met my gaze, assessing my judgement in a second.
Still single? – His voice oozed with venomous sympathy. – How’s your dog?
Maggie?
Yeah. She’s dead, isn’t she? All that effort for a couple of months. Was it worth it?
I looked at him, struck not by his cruelty, but by how little he meant to me now.
Don’t be so callous, Greg.
He shrugged his shoulders.
Just realistic. You lost everything for that dog. Look at you. Alone, miserable.
Clara, sorry I’m late.
Greg froze.
I turned round.
I saw Mark.
He had coffee in one hand. In the other, a leash.
Maggie was no longer that decrepit dog. Her coat shone, her eyes sparkled, her tail wagged frantically as she ran toward me.
Mark handed me my coffee and kissed my cheek.
Greg gawked.
‘But… how is she…?
She’s happy,’ I replied. – It turns out all she needed was love.
Greg’s face contorted with anger.
That’s… ridiculous.
No, ridiculous is thinking that I’ve ever regretted choosing you.
He clenched his jaw, turned and walked away.
I took Mark’s hand.
Are you ready? – He asked.
I smiled.
Like never before.
Six months later, in the same park, Mark got down on one knee.
Clara, will you marry me?
I looked at Maggie, who was wagging her tail like this was all her plan.
I laughed through my tears.
Of course.
