65years old and the most terrifying realisation isnt that Ill end up aloneits that I have to beg my children to call, knowing Im a burden to them.
Mum, hello, I need you urgently, my sons voice crackled over the handset, sounding more like a boss ordering a subordinate than a son speaking to his mother.
I, Nora Peterson, froze with the remote clutched in my hand, the evening news never having turned on.
Hey, Kyle, whats up? I asked.
Nothing, all good, he sighed impatiently. Kate and I have booked a cheap flight, leaving tomorrow morning.
And wholl look after the Duke? No ones left to watch him. Can you take him in?
Dukeour enormous, slobbery mastifftakes up more space in my tiny flat than the old sideboard ever did.
Longterm? I asked cautiously, already knowing the answer.
For a week, maybe two, if it works. Mum, who else? I cant leave him in a hotel for dogsthat would be cruel. You know how delicate he is.
I glanced at the sofa, freshly reupholstered in a light fabric Id been saving for half a year, refusing small luxuries. Duke would ruin it in a few days.
Kyle, Im not comfortable. Ive just finished the refurbishment.
What refurbishment? Did you repaper the walls? His tone turned sharp with irritation. Duke is wellbehaved, just remember to walk him. Kates calling, we need to pack. Well have him sorted within an hour.
A brief beep. He hadnt even asked how I was. Hed forgotten my birthday a week agomy 65th.
I spent the whole day waiting for his call, prepared my signature salad, put on a new dress. The kids promised to visit but never turned up.
Kyle sent a short text: Mum, busy! Stuck at work. Olivia didnt reply at all.
And todayI need your help urgently.
I sank slowly onto the sofa. The problem wasnt the dog or the ruined upholstery.
It was the humiliating feeling of being a freestanding emergency service, a lastminute babysitter, a human utility. I had once dreamed that my children would grow up independent; now I understood that the real terror was not an empty flat, but the heartstopping pause while waiting for a call that only came when they needed something from me. I was pleading for attention, sacrificing my comfort and selfrespect.
An hour later there was a knock. Kyle stood at the door, leash in hand, Duke bounding in with sheer joy, leaving muddy paw prints on the freshly cleaned floor.
Mum, heres his food, his toys. Remember three walks a day. Were off, otherwise well miss the flight! He thrust the leash into my hand, gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and was gone.
I was left standing in the hallway, Duke sniffing the arm of the armchair. From somewhere deep in the flat I heard the rustle of tearing fabric.
I stared at my phone. Should I call my daughter? Oliviamaybe shed understand? My finger hovered over the screen, frozen. It had been a month since Olivia last phoned. She has her own life, her own family.
For the first time I felt anything but resentment. A cold, clear, sober realisation settled in: enough.
Morning began with Duke, deciding to show affection, leaping onto the bed and leaving two dirty paw prints on the crisp duvet. The new sofa was already ripped in three places, and my favourite ficus, nurtured for five years, lay on the floor, its leaves chewed.
I poured a dram of valerian from the bottle and dialled Kyle. He didnt answer straight away. In the background I could hear waves and Kates laughter.
Mum, whats wrong? Alls fine here, the sea is brilliant!
Kyle, about the dog. Hes tearing the flat apartripping the sofa, I cant cope.
What do you mean? Hes never scratched anything before. Maybe youre keeping him cooped up? He needs freedom. We just arrived, we want to relax. Just take him for a longer walk, hell settle.
I walked him for two hours this morning! He pulls the leash so hard I nearly fell. Kyle, please take him back. Find somewhere else to look after him.
Silence hung. Then Kyles voice hardened.
Mum, are you serious? Were half a world away. How am I supposed to bring him back? You agreed yourself. Do you want us to scrap our whole holiday because of your whims? Thats selfish, Mum.
The word selfish landed like a slap. All my life Id lived for them, and now Im the selfish one?
Fine, Katie brought cocktails. Keep Duke entertained. Im sure youll become friends. Love you.
Another beep.
My hands trembled as I sat at the kitchen table, the wreckage around me feeling almost physical. I decided to call Olivia, hoping her judgement would be steadier.
Olivia, hi.
Hey, Mum. Anything urgent? Im in a meeting.
YesKyle left his dog with me and flew off. The dog is uncontrollable, destroying furniture, and Im scared hell bite me too.
Olivia sighed heavily.
Mum, Kyle asked for help. It was an emergency. Isnt it hard to help a brother? Were family. Replace the sofa, buy a new one. Kyle will reimburse, eventually.
Its not about the sofa! Its about the attitude! He just shoved me into this mess!
And whats he supposed to do? Beg on his knees? Mum, stop. Youre retired, you have plenty of time. Look after a dog, whats the big deal? Ive got my boss watching me.
The call ended.
I set the phone down. Familya strange word. In my case it meant people who remember you only when they need something, and brand you selfish if you cant comply instantly.
Later that evening the downstairs neighbour, furious as a harpy, knocked.
Nora! Your dog has been barking nonstop for three hours! My baby cant sleep! If you dont quiet him Ill call the police!
Duke, standing behind me, barked in agreement.
I shut the door, looked at the wagging dog waiting for praise, then at the torn sofa, then at my phone. A deep, deafening irritation swelled inside.
I grabbed the leash.
Come on, Duke, lets get out for a walk.
The park lane felt like a release valve as the tension in my shoulders turned into a dull ache. Duke surged forward, nearly ripping the leash from my weakened grip. Each tug echoed my childrens accusationsselfish, a lot of free time, hard to help.
Around a corner, Zoe, a former colleague, appeared, bright scarf, stylish haircut, smile alight.
Nora! I barely recognised you! Still buried in chores? Another grandkid? She nodded at Duke.
Its Kyles dog, I muttered.
Oh right! Youre our foreveroncall hero. Im off to Spain next week for a flamenco coursecan you believe it? My husband grumbled at first, then said, Go on, youve earned it. When was the last time you rested?
The question hung. Rest for me had always meant the garden shed, grandchildren, helping the kids.
You look exhausted, Zoe said sympathetically. You cant keep carrying everything. Let the grownups manage their own lives. Otherwise youll end up looking after their dogs forever while life passes you by. Ive got to run, rehearsal starts!
She vanished, leaving a trail of expensive perfume and hollow echo.
While life passes
The phrase detonated. I stopped so abruptly that Duke stared at me, confused.
I looked at the massive dog, at my hands gripping the leash, at the grey houses surrounding us. I knew I could no longer do this. Not a day, not an hour. Enough.
I pulled out my phone, fingers shaking, and typed best dog boarding. The first link showed glossy photos: spacious runs, a pool, grooming salon, personal trainer, prices that made my breath catch.
I dialled.
Good afternoon. Id like to book a stay for my dog, two weeks, full board and spa treatments, please.
I hailed a taxi right there in the park; Duke sat unusually calm, as if sensing the change.
The boarding house smelled of lavender and premium shampoo, not of dog. A smiling receptionist handed me a contract.
Without blinking I filled in Owner with Kyles name and number, and Payer with the same. I paid a deposit from the money Id been saving for a new coatmy best investment yet.
Well send daily photos to the owner, the receptionist said warmly, accepting the leash. Dont worry, your pet will love it here.
Returning to my quiet, slightly battered flat, I felt, for the first time in years, a calm rather than loneliness. I poured a cup of tea, settled on the remaining edge of the sofa and sent two identical messages. One to Kyle, one to Olivia.
Duke is safe. Hes at the boarding house. Any queries, contact the owner.
I muted my phone.
Three minutes later it buzzed with Kyles name. I took a sip of tea and didnt answer. A minute later another buzz, then a message from Olivia: Mum, what does that mean? Call me back now!
I turned the TV volume up, aware of the storm brewing on the other end. Panic, outrage, attempts to understand how their everreliable mum could act like this.
Two days later a persistent knock at the door announced Kyle and Olivia, suntanned but angry. Their holiday was clearly ruined.
I opened the door.
Mum, have you gone mad? Kyle shouted. What boarding house? Look at the billdid you see those figures? Youre trying to ruin us over a dog?
Good afternoon, children, I replied calmly. Come in, doff your shoes, Ill mop the floor.
My calm disarmed them more than any argument could. They entered, Kyle eyeing the shredded sofa, a toppled flower pot.
This, he said, finger pointing, what is this?
Its the damage caused by your wellbehaved dog in my flat. Ive had a tradesperson assess it. Heres the invoice for reupholstering and a new ficus. I handed him a neatly printed sheet.
Youre billing me for this? he gasped. You should have supervised him!
For what? For the first time in years I looked at my son not with love but with cold curiosity.
I owe you nothing, you know that. Neither do you owe us anything. I stared at them. Youve come here not to collect a deposit for the boarding house or to compensate the damage?
Olivia stepped in, trying to smooth things over.
Mum, why all this? Were family. We could sort it out. Kyles getting a bit emotional, you know?
Extremes are when a son accuses his mother of selfishness because she wont let the house become a ruin. Extremes are when a daughter says you have plenty of time to serve her brother. Those are the consequences of your choices, I said, pointing at the bill.
Kyle turned red. Im not paying a penny for this! Not for the boarding house either!
Fine, I replied. I wasnt hoping for that. Then Ill sell the cottage.
The words hit like a blow to the chest. The cottage they had all imaginedbarbecues, sauna, weekend getawayswas now a pawn.
You have no right! Olivia shouted, forgetting diplomacy. Its ours too! We grew up there!
The deeds are mine, I shrugged. And childhood, dear, is over.
The money Id saved would just cover the repair costs, the moral damages, and perhaps a flight to SpainZoes promised flamenco adventure.
They stared at me as if I were a stranger. Before them stood not the meek, obedient mother theyd known, but a woman with a steel spine theyd never imagined.
For the first time in ages the room settled into a tense silence. It was the awkward awareness of defeat.
A week later Kyle transferred the exact amount to my account. No apologies, no further calls.
I didnt wait for them. I fetched an almostnew suitcase from the attic, called Zoe.
Hey, love. Still got a spot for the flamenco class?
