–You’re telling me this mutt matters more than the kids?!– Ingrid snapped, scrubbing the fifth puddle off the kitchen tiles that day.
The rug was long gone. After it became clear even store-bought cleaners couldn’t beat the stubborn habit of marking territory, she’d rolled it up and tossed it.
But it wasn’t just the rug. Her husband, Kevin, had cracked open a tin of sweetcorn, dumped it in a bowl, and left both–bowl and can–in the sink. Crumbs littered the table, a coffee-stained mug, and an open jar of jam with a spoon sticking out. The floor was strewn with stuffing and shreds of a plush dinosaur.
And of course, cleaning it all fell to Ingrid.
–No need to shout,– Kevin muttered, rummaging in the fridge. –He’s just a dog. Still settling in.
Ingrid straightened up. The irritation she’d been bottling for weeks flashed in her eyes. She narrowed them and shoved the damp cloth at him.
–Brilliant. Then *you* clean up after *your* dog. Let me remind you—he’s *just* a dog. I’m *just* your wife. *Just* the mother of your children. And we, your *just* family, are suffocating under his mess and stench!
She kicked the stuffing aside and stormed off to the bedroom, sidestepping the culprit–Thunder, a massive, grey beast with mournful eyes, sitting in the doorway like a silent judge. No whining, no guilt. As if he hadn’t done a single thing wrong.
She remembered how it all started…
…Two months ago, Kevin had walked in with this shaggy bundle of chaos.
–Seb’s moving abroad. Long-term,– he’d said. –Says taking Thunder’s not an option, too much hassle. So I thought… He needs a family. And the kids could learn responsibility, love. It’d be great.
Kevin had beamed like he’d just saved the world. Ingrid, meanwhile, felt like he’d adopted a child without consulting her.
–Alright. Suppose he stays. But who walks him? Feeds him? Cleans up?– She already knew the answer.
–We’ll share it. We’re a family. Though… you *do* finish work earlier. Maybe you could handle walks?
Ingrid sighed but nodded back then. She’d known it wouldn’t go to plan—but what choice did she have?
And of course, she’d been right…
Ingrid tried. Bought toys, a raised food bowl, spent evenings watching training videos. Thunder rewarded her by turning his back—literally. His loyalty was to Kevin. The rest of them? Annoying extras.
Within weeks, he’d shredded wallpaper, gnawed an armchair, gutted every cushion. And the *puddles*…
At first, Kevin took him out mornings. Soon, every duty landed on Ingrid—walks, baths, meals, water… While Kevin just added to the mess.
Now he flicked off the light and flopped into bed, facing away. Sure, he’d probably wiped up that puddle. She’d even heard the hoover. But she’d bet the sink and the counter were still a warzone.
And tomorrow? Same routine.
–Listen, Kevin,– she finally turned to him. –Since Thunder moved in, I haven’t lived. I’ve *survived*.
He didn’t move. Fake-sleeping, though she knew he heard her.
–I walk him at dawn because you’re asleep. I skip lunch to walk him. I walk him after work because I’m home first. I clean fur, refill water, do *your* things. And what do I get? Your grumbling and his growling. Tell me—is that fair?
Kevin sighed. No defence. The kids had lost interest after three days; now they barely patted him in passing.
–You’re overreacting. He’s not that bad.
Ingrid pressed her lips. Another brick wall. But this time, she wasn’t backing down.
–I’ve had enough,– she said. –Choose. Me or the dog.
Kevin rolled onto his back, stared at the ceiling like a philosopher, then got up and packed a bag.
Ingrid watched silently as he zipped his jacket and clipped on the lead.
–I don’t abandon friends. We’ll stay at the cottage. Wait till you cool off,– he mumbled on his way out.
She didn’t stop him. Just watched that back she used to stroke at night—now a stranger’s back. A stranger’s dog.
The door clicked shut. At first, she scoffed. Twenty years of marriage, and *now* he grew principles? A man who’d ditch his family before his dog?
Then—quiet. No alarms for dawn walks. No scrubbing bowls. No watching her step.
Bitter, but freeing…
…Three months later, Ingrid breathed easier. Not just from the vanished dog-stink—but the sticky weight of expectation. She’d stopped waiting for Kevin to listen, or even wash up after himself.
The kids missed him, but they adjusted.
–Mum, can I have friends over now?– her daughter asked on day three.
–Course. No one’ll jump on them.
Her son left his bike in the hall again—no teeth in the tires now. A fair trade.
They re-papered the walls–crooked, but better than scraps. She binned the chewed blankets, bought new curtains–warm, muted orange.
Like the flat itself sighed in relief.
–Mum, you’re off tomorrow, yeah?– her son asked over breakfast.
–Nearly. Just popping to Nan’s. Then the day’s yours.
She smiled. Finally–a proper weekend.
Meanwhile, Kevin wasn’t enjoying his “freedom.”
The cottage—only ever used for barbecues—was draughty, the taps spat rust, and the loo was still out back.
At first, he saw it as a test. Even romantic. Man and dog against the world. Thunder was meant to be a symbol—proof he could be responsible.
But Thunder stayed a dog.
He howled alone, stole socks, ruined furniture, refused the yard, and if Kevin didn’t bolt awake to open the door in ten seconds—well.
“Rested” left Kevin’s vocabulary. Thunder hogged the bed, shoved, snored. Nights felt less like freedom and more like parenting a giant, hairy toddler.
–You absolute wreck,– he muttered once, mopping up by the door. –What did I do to deserve this?
One awful day, he called Seb—the friend who’d started this mess.
–So… how’s it going?– Seb asked cautiously.
Silence. Then:
–Be honest. You *knew* he was trouble, didn’t you?
–Well… yeah. I was at my wit’s end. Ten messes a day, chewed wires… But you—you’ve got the wife, kids, someone’s always home. I thought… maybe he’d settle.
–Cheers for that,– Kevin rasped. –Proper stitched me up.
He hung up, eyed Thunder (currently destroying his fourth slipper), pulled a blanket over himself, and stared out the window.
When Kevin came back, it was casual—like he’d just popped to the shop. He rang the bell, grinning awkwardly, as if everything would reset instantly.
–Hey,– he said when Ingrid opened the door. –Just… thought I’d drop by. Missed you.
She leaned against the frame, arms crossed. The flat smelled of apple pie, soft music playing. She stepped aside—after a pause.
–Come in, then. Rude to leave guests on the step.
They drank tea in stiff silence.
–Look, it got messy. You were wound up. I was stuck with Thunder,– he started. –Wanted to say sorry. Found him a home, by the way. Neighbours took him. Guard dog now.
Ingrid tilted her head slightly but stayed quiet. Kevin fidgeted.
–Thought maybe… things could go back now? Since he’s gone.
–You really think the *dog* was the problem?– she finally asked.
He shrugged weakly, tried to smile.
–I’ve changed, you know. Thought a lot–
—*I* didn’t think. I *lived*.– she cut in. –And realised life’s not bad without you.
He left empty-handed. Three months later, they divorced. Nothing to split—the flat was hers. The kids stayed but still saw him. Ingrid didn’t stop them.
One evening, she had Angela over—an old uni mate, well aware of the saga.
–Funny…– Ingrid mused. –I used to bend over backwards, terrified of losing him, thought divorce was the end. Now? Can’t even remember why I was scared.
Angela sipped her coffee.
–Because you carried the family. He just added weight. Now you’re free. Especially once Andy’s off to uniAnd as the rain tapped gently against the window, Ingrid took a slow sip of her tea, realising for the first time in years that the quiet wasn’t loneliness—it was peace.
