**Betrayal or Loyalty Saved**
“I’ve made my decision, Mum. That’s it!” Jake stared stubbornly out the window, lips pressed tight.
“You—you’re a traitor, Jake!” His mother’s voice trembled with despair and reproach.
“A traitor? Me?!” The boy choked on his anger, spun around, and stormed out of the room.
He slammed the door, threw himself onto his bed, and buried his face in the pillow. Rage burned inside him, but it was quickly replaced by warm memories—filled with summer and happiness.
When Jake turned eight, his dad gave him the bike of his dreams—a bright blue stunt bike, gleaming under the sun. Jake was over the moon. He’d race around the neighbourhood with his mates from dawn till dusk, forgetting everything else—even his dad’s upcoming birthday. It was Grandad who reminded him.
“Jakey, have you thought of a gift for your dad yet?” he asked softly as they sat together on the porch.
“No, Grandad… I didn’t even think about it.”
“That’s alright. If you want, we can make something together. I’ve got an idea.”
For two weeks, they crafted a wooden key rack. They carved, sanded, burned patterns into the wood, and screwed in hooks. Jake worked just as hard as his grandad, even leaving his beloved bike to gather dust in the corner.
On his dad’s birthday, he was oddly cheerful and mysterious. He hugged Jake, thanked him for the gift, and then—laughing—brought out a wicker basket from the porch. Inside slept a plump, shiny black puppy.
“Meet Max. My gift to myself. Childhood dream come true.”
“Tom, have you lost your mind?!” Mum threw her hands up. “A dog?!”
“Not just any dog—look at him! Like a little bear!” Dad laughed, his grin so boyish and bright it melted everyone’s resistance.
Max was loved instantly. A Staffordshire terrier, he grew like crazy—strong, broad-chested, gentle, and loyal. He adored Dad, never leaving his side, guarding him. And then… he saved him.
Late one night in the park, two men confronted Dad. A knife, threats. Suddenly, Max lunged out of the bushes—black as night, fierce as a shadow. Just the sight of him made the men back off.
“If they’d known he wouldn’t hurt a fly…” Dad chuckled later.
But the worst came after. Leukemia. It took Dad in just a few months, like a candle in the wind. Jake was only twelve. And Max became his shadow.
Now, Jake’s fifteen. A year ago, Richard came into their lives—decent, polite. But when he moved in properly, they found out he was badly allergic to dogs.
Mum tried to smooth things over at first, then just said it outright: “We have to rehome Max.” Richard was family now. But the dog… Jake couldn’t believe it. How could you betray someone who never betrayed you?
He asked his friends—no one wanted an old Staffy. Grandad wasn’t an option; he could barely walk himself, let alone care for a dog.
“I’m not sending him to a shelter!” Jake stood firm on the day of the final argument.
“But Richard is family now,” Mum cried. “Is the dog really more important than a person?”
“More important than Richard? Yeah,” Jake exhaled. “Because he *is* family. Max was Dad’s family. And mine. And yours, Mum. Let me and him move in with Grandad. We won’t be in the way.”
“And what about me? Splitting myself between two homes? I work, Jake—”
He silently pointed at the key rack they’d made long ago. Max’s lead hung there.
“I’ve already decided.”
“Traitor,” she whispered, voice breaking.
Later, Grandad called Mum himself.
“Liz, let the lad stay here. There’s distance learning, and honestly… it’ll be easier for me with him around. And Max too. We’ll manage.”
Then Richard surprised them.
“Let him go, Liz. The boy’s grown. The dog’ll be fine. Why force it?”
Jake arrived at Grandad’s with Max and a duffel bag. The dog flopped happily by the telly, tail thumping. Everything just… fit.
Then one day, Grandad called—his voice quiet, strained.
“Jake… my chest feels tight. Come quickly.”
Jake bolted from his lessons, raced home. A neighbour had already called an ambulance but hovered anxiously by Grandad’s bed.
“Thank you, Margaret. We’ll take it from here.”
The paramedics arrived quickly. The doctor gave an injection. A young medic, Emily, hesitated at the door, eyeing Max.
“Don’t worry, he’s gentle,” Jake assured her.
“Wasn’t worried,” she smiled and stepped inside.
The doctor said Grandad needed home IV drips.
“Someone to help?”
“No…” Jake spread his hands helplessly.
“Emily, can you take this one?” the doctor asked.
“I can. Unless the beast eats me.”
She winked at Max. The dog huffed, tucked his tongue in, and almost nodded.
That’s how it started.
Emily came every day. Jake walked her out. Then they started taking walks together. Then lingering in the park. Their talks grew longer, quieter, deeper…
Then little Thomas arrived.
Max greeted Emily home from the hospital like family. He abandoned his spot by the telly for a rug by the crib. He grumbled if the baby stirred, slept close, always there.
Tommy learned to walk holding Max’s collar.
And Max? He turned thirteen. He wheezed but still padded patiently beside the toddler—old, wise, tired, but still loyal.
One day, Emily dashed to the shop—milk, nappies. Thomas was asleep, Grandad home.
“Don’t worry,” Albert said. “We’ll be fine.”
But his heart gave out. Pain, blackness, helplessness.
Max leaped onto the sofa, licked his hand. Then to Tommy. Then to the door. It was open. He raced to the neighbour’s. She understood—something was wrong.
Jake returned to the smell of medicine and damp air.
“I’m sorry,” Emily sobbed. “If not for Max—”
“It’s okay. We’re okay.”
Max watched them from the floor. His gaze was heavy, deep, full of love.
He never betrayed them.
Never.
