Harper Whitfield stared out of the frosted window of her modest flat in Manchester as the winter dusk settled over the terraced houses, the streetlights flickering on one by one. She thought of the night when her fiancé, Maxwell Reed, his jaw twisted with rage, had smacked the little dachshutlike dog Milly after she had accidentally stepped on his pristine white trainers with a muddy paw. Rocket, the sleek black Labrador who had tried to defend Milly, took a vicious swipe from a heavy leather leash that cracked across his snout. In that instant Harper finally understood why her cats and dogs had always taken an instant dislike to Maxwell.
The clock ticked relentless. All her schoolmates were already married, raising children, while she lingered alone, despite having a decent flat, a steady job as a paramedic, and a loyal troupe of furry companions. Her parents had both died early, leaving her in the care of her grandmother, Eleanor Whitfield, who had always urged Harper to become a doctor. After failing to gain a place at medical school, Harper settled for a degree in emergency nursing and now spent long shifts on the ambulance.
As a child she had longed for a pet, but her mother was allergic to fur. The allergy revealed itself the day Harper, eyes shining with joy, brought home a teenage kitten named Ginger; her mothers asthma flared on the spot and the kitten was hurried to Grandmothers house. When the parents were gone, a scruffy cat named Tish was rescued from a rubbish dump. Harper wanted a dog too, but Eleanor feared the responsibility.
Now her household teemed with five devoted friends. Rocket had been found shivering beside a supermarket, a gaunt, flearidden pup trying to slip into the warmth of the stores back door before security shoved him away. Harper slipped him into her bag and hurried home. Fast as a jet, the little dog earned the name Rocket. He quickly bonded with Tish.
A few weeks later a tiny dachshund named Milly appeared at the doorstep. Her previous owners, moving into a new flat, abandoned her in the courtyard, fearing she would ruin their new furnishings. Milly, limping and whimpering, spent a week circling the building, trying to sneak into the stairwell. Local dog walkers finally tipped Harper off, and she rescued the shivering pup, nursing her chilled ears. Milly proved an ideal house dogcalm, sensible, and tidy, much like a wise old lady.
When the cold made the streets slick, Harper wrapped Milly in a warm knitted scarf. The dachshund trotted proudly, looking almost comical, a tiny, stern sentinel patrolling the pavement.
One early morning, rushing to a night shift, Harper stepped off the lift and a snowcovered lump rolled toward her feet, turning out to be a starving, frostbitten cat. She scooped it up, brought it to the lobby heater, fed it two cheeseandham sandwiches, and left a note on the wall: Please dont shoo the cat away! Ill collect it after my shift. Harper, Flat15. She named the newcomer Lady Eleanor, after her own middle name, and the cat, regal and ambitious, quickly assumed the role of commander, enforcing strict cleanliness in the flat. Her disciplined patrols continued through the night, checking every corner.
Later, in a park, Harper found a tiny, silent kitten she called Toby. Two crows had nearly snatched him, but he survived and grew into a modest, everagreeable cat who never fought. The five rescued animals lived together peacefully, careful not to upset their human.
Harper knew that not every prospective groom would appreciate such a menagerie. Her grandmother warned, Harper, dear, think of ittwo dogs and three cats. Not everyone will like that, especially youngsters with their fancy lives. Harper replied, Then hes not the one for me, Grandma.
She had once dated Alex Hart, a quiet trauma surgeon she met during a night shift when a carcrash victim was being transferred. Their connection felt electric, and Alex, using his position, secured her number and called the next evening. They dated, and Alex introduced her to his sister and brotherinlaw, even taking her to meet his parents in the countryside. Yet when Alex visited her flat, she kept inventing excuses about relatives visiting, but the lies grew thin. Finally, overwhelmed, Harper gathered all her pets and, under Eleanors disapproving stare, moved them to the grandmothers house. You cant start a marriage with a lie, Eleanor chided, but if you must, visit them every day.
Alex, unaware of the furry brigade, proposed with a heartshaped amethyst ring. I have no dowry, but I love you, Harper laughed, her voice trembling with both joy and dread. As wedding plans swirleddress shopping, venue bookings, guest liststheir chaotic life kept colliding. One afternoon Alex opened a trash bin in the kitchen, only for bags of pet food to tumble out. Where did these come from? he asked. Harper brushed it off, changing the subject.
Meanwhile, Eleanor let Rocket and Milly out for a run in the fresh snow. A pensioner delivering mail hurried past, barely closing the gate, and Nicholas, Tish, Toby, and Ginger fled into the courtyard, with Rocket leading the pack like a disciplined column. Passersby stared at the odd procession crossing the road, amazed at the orderly march of dogs and cats in winter.
When Alex heard the rattle at his door and opened it, a stunned silence fell over him. A bundled dachshund in a red snowsuit trotted in, followed by a large Labrador, then a wave of cats, all shaking off flakes. Whats this? he asked, bewildered. Harper burst into the hallway, covering her face, sinking onto the shoe rack, and sobbing silently. These are mine, she whispered. They were with my grandmother.
Rocket and Milly lunged at Alex, while Lady Eleanor hissed, baring her teeth. You said thered be no dowry, Alex muttered, angered.
He left, slipping into his car, while Harper called Eleanor, trying to soothe her. No wedding, she thought, hugging her trembling animals, feeling the emptiness of her deceit. Hours later, a knock sounded. Alex stood there, hands full of premium pet food. Dont close the door, he said, placing the bags down. He entered again a moment later, leashing a dachshund in a bright red harness. This is Nika, and this is Marry, he introduced a ginger cat tucked under his coat. They belong to my sister, but Ill bring them to you.
Years later, Harper Whitfield and Alexander Hart still recount the chaotic wedding that never happened, laughing at how a bundle of pets could reshape two lives. Who knows what might have been, had there been no dowry, and what different path their story would have taken?
