June 23, 2025 Diary
At sixtyfive I finally understood that the worst thing isnt being left alone; its pleading with your own children to pick up the phone, knowing you feel like a burden to them.
Hello, Mum, I need you right now, my son Harry said, his voice flat as if he were ordering a reluctant subordinate rather than speaking to his mother.
Margaret Thompson froze, remote in her hand, the evening news still unstarted.
Hi, Harry. Whats up?
Nothing, all good, he blew out a breath. Emily and I have booked a lastminute flight tomorrow morning.
The dukecan we take him with us?
The Duke, I thought of the enormous, drooling mastiff that filled more of her modest flat than the old sideboard ever did. For how long? I asked, already knowing the answer.
For a week, maybe two, if it works out. Mum, who else will look after him? Boarding him in a kennel would be crueltyhes terribly sensitive.
Margaret glanced at her sofa, freshly reupholstered in a light, cheap fabric shed been saving for months by cutting back on little luxuries. The Duke would shred it in a matter of days.
Harry, I just finished the reupholstery. Its not really convenient for me.
What reupholstery? Did you put up new wallpaper? his tone turned impatient.
The Duke is wellbehaved; just remember to walk him. Emilys calling, we need to pack the suitcases. Well have him in an hour.
A few short beeps later. He hadnt even asked how shed been. Hed forgotten her birthday the week beforeher sixtyfifth.
Shed spent the whole day waiting for his call, preparing her signature salad, slipping into a new dress. Theyd promised to visit, but never turned up.
A brief text from Harry: Mum, happy birthday! Stuck at work. No reply from Ethel.
And todayUrgent, need your help.
Margaret sank slowly onto the sofa. It wasnt about the dog or the torn upholstery. It was the humiliating sense of being a freestanding emergency service, the last resort, a human utility.
She remembered, long ago, when Harry and his siblings were little, shed dreamed theyd grow up selfsufficient. Now she realised the real terror wasnt an empty flat; it was waiting, heart thudding, for a call that only came when something demanded her.
An hour later, a knock at the door. Harry stood there, leash in hand, Duke bounding inside, leaving muddy paw prints on the freshly cleaned floor.
Mum, heres the food, his toys. Three walks a day, remember? Weve got to rush or well miss the flight! He shoved the leash into her hand, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, and vanished.
Margaret was left in the hallway, Duke nosing the chair legs. The distant sound of fabric tearing drifted from the bedroom.
She stared at her phone. Should she call Ethel? Maybe shed understand? Her finger hovered, then froze. Ethel hadnt called in a monthbusy with her own life, her own family.
For the first time she felt something other than resentment: a cold, clear, sober awareness. Enough.
Morning found Duke, in a sudden burst of affection, leaping onto the bed and leaving two dirty paw imprints on the crisp duvet. The new sofa bore three fresh rips, and the ficus shed nurtured for five years lay on the floor, leaves nibbled.
She poured herself a mug of chamomile tea straight from the bottle and dialed Harry. He hesitated before answering. In the background, the seas roar and the sound of Emilys laughter drifted through the speaker.
Mum, whats wrong? Everythings brilliant heresunny, sea, perfect!
Harry, the dogs wrecking the flat. Hes torn the sofa, I cant manage him.
Wrecking? Hes never chewed anything. Maybe youre being too strict? He needs freedom. We just arrived, we want to relax. Give him a longer walk, hell settle.
I walked him two hours this morning! He pulls the leash so hard I almost fell. Please, could you take him back? Find another caretaker.
A silence stretched. Then Harrys voice hardened.
Are you serious? Were on the other side of the world. How am I supposed to bring him back? You agreed to this. Isnt this selfish, Mum?
The word selfish landed like a slap. All her life shed lived for themnow she was the selfish one?
Not being capricious, I just
Enough, Mum. Emilys brought the cocktails, keep Duke busy. Im sure youll get along.
Another series of beeps. Margarets hands shook as she sat at the kitchen table, feeling physically powerless. She decided to call Ethel, hoping her sisterinlaw might be more reasonable.
Hello, Ethel.
Hi, Mum. Something urgent?
Yes. Harry left his mastiff with me and flew off. Hes out of control, Im terrified hell bite me.
Ethel sighed. He asked for help, didnt he? Family should pull together. Replace the sofa, itll be fine. Hell pay you back later.
Its not about the sofa! Its about being used!
Just be a mum, youve got time now, why not look after a dog? I have a meeting, cant help.
The call ended. Familywhat a strange word. In her case it meant a group that thought of you only when they needed something, then labelled you selfish when you couldnt instantly comply.
Later that afternoon a neighbour downstairs, furious as a storm, banged on her door.
Mrs Thompson! Your dog has been barking nonstop for three hours! My baby cant sleep! If you dont quiet him Ill call the police!
The Duke barked triumphantly behind her, confirming the neighbours claim.
She shut the door, looked at the dog wagging his tail for praise, then at the torn sofa, at the phone that pulsed with unanswered messages. A deep, heavy irritation settled in her chest.
She grabbed the leash.
Come on, Duke, lets get a walk.
Through the park she trudged, feeling the tension in her shoulders melt into a dull, throbbing ache. Duke pulled hard, nearly ripping the leash from her weakened grip. Each jerk echoed the sons and daughters accusationsselfish, too much free time, hard to help?
Suddenly, Zinnia Patel, a former colleague, appeared, bright scarf, stylish bob, smile.
Margaret! I barely recognised youstill the same old worrier! Another grandchild? she laughed, nodding at Duke.
Its Harrys dog, Margaret replied flatly.
Oh, right! Youre our goto problemsolver. Im off to Spain in a week for a flamenco workshopcan you imagine? My husband was grumbling, then said, Go, youve earned it. When was the last time you rested?
The question hung. Margaret could not recall a proper rest; hers had always been tied to the cottage, the grandchildren, the endless chores.
You look exhausted, Zinnia said sympathetically. You cant keep carrying everyones load. Let the kids manage themselves. Otherwise youll spend your life looking after other peoples dogs while life passes you by.
She flicked a scented perfume into the air and hurried off, leaving the mantra while life passes you by echoing.
Margaret stopped dead in her tracks, Duke staring at her, her hands gripping the leash, the grey houses lining the street. She realised she could not go on. Not a single day, not a single hour.
She pulled out her phone, trembling fingers typing Best dog boarding kennels London. The first result displayed glossy photos: spacious runs, heated pools, grooming suites, prices that made her gasp.
She dialled the number without a second thought.
Good morning, Id like to book a twoweek stay for a dog, allinclusive, with spa treatments, please.
A taxi roared to a halt outside the park; Duke sat calmly, as if sensing the change.
At the kennel the scent was not of dog fur but of lavender and premium shampoos. A smiling receptionist handed her a contract.
She filled in Owner as Harry Thompson, Payer as Harry Thompson, and wrote a deposit from the money shed been saving for a new coat. It felt like the best investment of her life.
Well send daily photos to the owner, the receptionist assured, taking the leash. Dont worry, hell love it here.
Returning to her quiet, albeit slightly battered flat, Margaret felt for the first time in years a genuine peace rather than loneliness. She poured herself a cup of tea, settled on the edge of the rescued sofa, and sent two identical messagesone to Harry, one to Ethel.
Duke is safe at the kennel. All issues can be directed to his owner.
She turned off her phones ringer.
Three minutes later it buzzed: Harry. She took a sip of tea and stayed silent.
Another buzz, then a text from Ethel: Mum, what does that mean? Call me ASAP!
She cranked up the TV volume, already knowing the drama unfolding on the other end. Panic, outrage, attempts to understand how their everreliable mum could act so.
Two days later a determined knock came at the door. Harry and Ethel stood there, suntanned and angry, their holiday clearly ruined.
Are you out of your mind, Mum? What hotel? Look at these figuresdid you think you could ruin us over a dog?
Good afternoon, children, Margaret replied calmly. Come in, take off your shoes, Ill sweep the floor.
Her composure diffused the tension more effectively than any argument could. They entered, Harry eyeing the shredded sofa, the tippedover flower pot.
This, he pointed, whats this?
Its the result of having your wellbehaved dog in my home. I called a tradesperson, he assessed the damage. Heres the invoice for reupholstering and a new ficus. She handed him a neatly printed sheet.
Youre billing me? Harry huffed. You should have looked after him!
Should have? Margaret asked, her voice steady, a hint of icy curiosity. Im not sure I ever had to.
She looked at them both, no longer with love but with a detached interest.
I owe you nothing, youve both owed me nothing either, she said. Im guessing youre not here to reclaim the hotel deposit or settle the damages?
Ethel tried to mediate. Mum, why all this? Were family. Wed sort it out
Harry cut in, And what about the extremes?
Extremes are when a son accuses his mother of selfishness for not letting the house become a wreck, or when a daughter claims you have plenty of time to babysit her brothers dog. Those are just the fallout of your decisions.
Harrys face flushed. I wont pay a penny for that kennel either!
Fine, Margaret replied, I wasnt expecting you to. Then Ill sell the cottage.
The cottagewhere theyd planned barbecues, a sauna, weekend getawayswas suddenly a pawn.
You have no right! Ethel shouted, forgetting any attempt at peace. It was ours too! We grew up there!
The deeds are in my name, Margaret shrugged. And childhood is over, dear.
The money from the hotel would just cover the losses, the moral damage, perhaps even a trip to SpainZinnia had spoken of it fondly.
They stared at her as if she were a stranger. The woman before them was no longer the meek, obedient mother but a steelspined woman they never imagined existed.
For the first time in years, a heavy silence settled over the room. It was the hush of realization: they had lost.
Within a week Harry transferred the exact amount to her accountno apologies, no further calls.
Margaret didnt wait for them. She retrieved an almostnew suitcase from the attic, phoned Zinnia.
Hi Zinnia, any spots left for the flamenco class?
The lesson Ive learned today, scribbled in the margin of this entry, is simple: caring for others does not mean sacrificing yourself until you vanish. Boundaries are not selfish; they are essential. When you finally say enough, you protect the part of you that still has a future to live.
