June 23
At sixtyfive I finally understood that the worst part isnt being left alone; its pleading with my own children to pick up the phone, knowing Im a burden to them.
Mum, hello, I need you urgently, my sons voice crackled through the handset, sounding more like a clerk ordering a subordinate than a mother calling her child.
I stood frozen, remote still in my hand, the evening news never switched on.
Hey, Kirk, whats up? I asked.
Nothing, all good, he sighed impatiently. Kate and I grabbed a lastminute holiday; we fly out tomorrow morning.
Wholl look after Duke? he continued. Hes a massive, slobbery Labrador that practically takes up more space than the old sideboard in my tiny flat.
Long term? I asked, already knowing the answer.
For a week, maybe two, if it works. Mum, who else? We cant leave him in a kennelthats cruel. You know how sensitive he is.
I glanced at the sofa, newly reupholstered in a light fabric Id saved for months by skimping on little luxuries. Duke would ruin it in a few days.
Kirk, Im not comfortable. I just finished the refurbishment.
What refurbishment? his irritation slipped through. Did you put new wallpaper up?
Just remember hes a proper dog; dont forget to walk him. Kates calling, we need to pack the suitcases. Well have him in an hour.
A brief buzz. He didnt even ask how I was, didnt wish me a happy birthday that had passed last week. Sixtyfive.
I spent the whole day waiting for his call, prepared my signature salad, put on a new dress. The kids promised to drop by, but never did.
Kirk sent a short text: Mum, happy birthday! Stuck at work. Olivia remained silent.
And todayI need you urgently.
I sank slowly onto the sofa. The problem wasnt the dog or the ruined upholstery. It was the humiliating sense of my role: a freestanding caretaker, an emergency service, the last resort.
I recalled how, years ago, when my children were small, I dreamed theyd grow up independent. Now I realise the true terror isnt an empty flat; its the heartstopping wait for a call, knowing Im only needed when they demand something.
Im begging for their attention, sacrificing my comfort and selfrespect.
An hour later the doorbell rang. Kirk stood there, leash in hand, Duke bounding inside, leaving muddy paw prints on the spotless floor.
Mum, heres the food, his toys. Remember three walks a day. Were off to the airport, dont be late! He thrust the leash into my hand, gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and vanished.
I was left in the hallway, Duke sniffing the arm of a chair. From somewhere deeper in the flat came the sound of fabric tearing.
I stared at my phone. Should I call Olivia? Maybe shed understand. My finger hovered over the screen, frozen. It had been a month since shed called. She must be busy with her own life, her own family.
For the first time I felt no surge of resentment, only a cold, clear realization: enough.
Morning arrived with Duke, now feeling affectionate, leaping onto the bed and leaving two dirty paw prints on the crisp duvet. My new sofa was already ruined in three spots, and the ficus Id tended for five years lay on the floor, its leaves gnawed.
I poured a shot of valerian from the bottle, dialed my son. He didnt answer straight away. In the background I could hear the surf and Kates laughter.
Mum, what? Everythings perfect here, the sea is brilliant!
Kirk, about the doghes destroying the flat, the sofa, I cant manage him.
What do you mean? he sounded genuinely surprised. He never chewed anything. Maybe youre keeping him cooped up? He needs freedom. We just arrived, we want to relax. Just walk him longer and hell calm down.
I walked him two hours this morning! He pulls the leash so hard I nearly fell. Please, take him back. Find another sitter.
Silence. Then Kirks tone hardened.
Mum, seriously? Were half a world away. How am I supposed to bring him back? You agreed to look after him. Do you expect us to drop everything because of your whims? Thats selfish, Mum.
The word selfish landed like a slap. All my life Id lived for them, and now I was the selfish one.
Not a whim I began, but he cut me off. All right, Kates brought the cocktails. Keep Duke entertained. Im sure youll get along. He hung up.
The phone buzzed again. My hands trembled as I sat at the kitchen table, the wreckage around me feeling almost physical. I decided to call Olivia, always the more reasonable one.
Olivia, hi.
Hello, Mum. Urgent?
Yes. Kirk left his dog with me and flew off. Hes out of control, tearing up the furniture, Im scared hell bite me.
Olivia sighed heavily. Mum, he asked for help. It was an emergency. Cant you help a brother? Were family. Replace the sofa, buy a new one. Kirk will sort it out later.
Its not about the sofa! Its about how he put me in this position!
Whats that supposed to mean? Begging on your knees? Youre retired, you have all the time in the world. Look after a dog, whats the worst that could happen? Ive got a meeting, I cant stay.
The call ended. I placed the handset down.
Family. A strange word. In my case, it means a group of people who remember you only when they need something, and label you selfish if you cant instantly comply.
Later that evening the downstairs neighbor, furious as a storm, knocked.
Nina! Your dog has been howling for three hours! My baby cant sleep! If you dont quiet him Ill call the police!
Duke barked merrily behind me, confirming her claim. I shut the door, looked at him wagging his tail for a pat.
Then at the torn sofa, at my phone, a dull, heavy irritation built inside. I always tried to resolve things nicely, to explain, to empathise, but my logic, my feelings, my arguments fell on a wall of indifferent courtesy.
I grabbed the leash.
Come on, Duke, lets go for a walk.
I led him down the park lane, feeling the tension in my shoulders turn into a dull, throbbing ache. Duke darted forward, nearly ripping the leash from my weakened grip. Each tug echoed the words of my children: selfish, plenty of time, hard to help?
Ahead, almost dancing, came Zinnia, a former colleague, bright scarf, stylish haircut, smiling eyes.
Nina! I barely recognised you! Still buried in trouble? Is that the grandchild again? she gestured at Duke.
Its my sons dog, I replied.
Oh right! Youre our goto hero. Im off to Spain next week for a flamenco coursecan you believe it? Girls from the choir, my husband finally said Go on, youve earned it. When was the last time you had a proper break?
The question hung in the air. I couldnt remember. Breaks for me were always tied to the cottage, the grandchildren, helping the kids.
You look spent, Zinnia said kindly. You cant carry everything on your own. Let the grownups manage themselves. Otherwise youll be babysitting their dogs while life passes you by. Ive got rehearsal, cheerio!
She flicked away, leaving a scented trail of perfume and empty space.
While life passes you by rang like a detonator. Duke stopped, looking at me with bewildered eyes. I stared at the huge dog, my hands gripping the leash, the grey houses around us.
I realised I could not go onnot a day, not an hour.
Enough.
I pulled out my phone, trembling fingers typing best dog hotel. The first result showed glossy photos: spacious runs, a pool, grooming salons, oneonone sessions with a trainer, prices that made my breath catch.
I dialled the number without hesitation.
Good afternoon, Id like to book a room for a dog, two weeks, full board and spa treatments.
I called a taxi on the spot; Duke behaved oddly calm in the back seat, as if sensing the change.
At the hotel the scent was lavender and expensive shampoo, not doggy musk. A smiling receptionist handed me a contract. I filled in Owner with Kirks name and number, Payer 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, taking the leash. Dont worry, hell love it here.
Returning to my quiet, slightly wrecked flat, I felt, for the first time in years, a calm rather than loneliness. I brewed tea, settled on the remaining edge of the sofa and sent two identical messagesone to Kirk, one to Olivia:
Duke is safe. Hes at the hotel. All queries to his owner.
I turned off the phone ringer.
Three minutes later it buzzed with Kirks name. I took a sip of tea and stayed silent. Another buzz followed, then a message from Olivia: Mum, what does that mean? Call me back ASAP.
I cranked up the TV volume, already knowing the storm that would follow.
Two days later the doorbell rang with a firm, almost aggressive knock.
Kirk and Olivia stood on the threshold, sunburned and angry, their holiday clearly ruined.
Mum, have you lost your mind? Kirk shouted. What hotel? Look at the billdid you see those numbers? Youve ruined us over a dog!
Good afternoon, children, I replied calmly. Come in, take off your shoes, Ill wipe the floor.
My composure defused the tension better than any argument could. They stepped inside, Kirk eyeing the shredded sofa, the overturned flower pot.
This, he pointed, what is this?
Its the damage your wellbehaved dog caused. 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 too? he gasped. You should have watched him!
For the first time in years I looked at my son not with love but with a cold curiosity.
I owe you nothing, Mum, Olivia interjected, trying to smooth things over. Were family. We can sort this out.
Kirk sneered. Extremes are when a son accuses his mother of selfishness because she wont turn her house into a ruin. Or when a daughter says you have plenty of time to tend to her brothers dog. He gestured at the bill. These are the consequences of your choices.
He turned red with anger. Im not paying a penny for this hotel either!
Fine, I said simply. I wasnt counting on that. Ill sell the cottage.
That struck a nerve. The cottage they’d planned to use for barbecues, a sauna, holidays with friendsmy cottage.
You cant! Olivia shouted, forgetting diplomacy. Its ours too! We grew up there!
The paperworks in my name, I shrugged. And childhood is over, dear.
The money recovered would cover the repair costs, compensate my emotional loss, and perhaps allow a trip to Spain, as Zinnia promised.
They stared at me as if I were a stranger. No longer the meek, obedient mother, but a woman with a steel spine they never imagined.
A heavy silence settled, the first in years. It was the awkward awareness of defeat.
Within a week Kirk transferred the exact sum to my accountno apologies, no further calls.
I fetched an almost new suitcase from the loft, dialled Zinnia.
Zinnia, hi. Do you still have a spot in the flamenco class?
