**Diary Entry 13th March**
“Mum, Dad was right when he said youve lost the plot! I see it nowyoure off your rocker. Have you even tried getting help?”
Antonia Peters stared at her son, stunned. Hed always been a difficult boy, but to speak to his own mother like that, straight to her face
I never imagined Id be divorcing my husband after twenty-five years of marriage. Yet, I was the one who filed. Because one day, it hit meI didnt know him at all. Youd think after so long, youd know a person inside out. But no. Dmitri turned out to be heartless.
When I brought home that scrappy little pup from the streetso thin you could count every ribhe exploded.
“Tonia, have you nothing better to do?” he bellowed, voice echoing through our Manchester flat. “Why drag that wretched thing in here?”
“Dmitri, listen to yourself,” I said, baffled. “Look at him. Hes skin and bones. How could anyone walk past?”
“Plenty do! What, are you Mother Teresa now? Too good for the rest of us?”
That night, I criedfor the pup trembling on unsteady legs, and for the man Id married showing his true colours. Hed never been perfect, but Id overlooked his flaws. That day, he crossed a line. “How can someone see a helpless creature and not lift a finger?”
It didnt end there. He made it clear the “mutt” grated on him. “When are you getting rid of it? How long must we put up with this half-starved stray?”
“Half-starved” because the poor thing shivered constantly, even in a warm flat. Instead of helping me nurse him or find him a proper home, Dmitri vanished to the garage with his matesuseless blokes hiding from their own wives. Hed stumble back late, soused, and start in on me and the “filthy” dog again.
One evening, my chest tightened at workthat awful gut feeling something was wrong. I rushed home early and caught him red-handed: he was dragging poor Benny toward the garages, likely to abandon him. That was it. I filed for divorce.
“Over a *dog*?” he roared. “Youve gone senile!”
I ignored him. Senile? Hardly. I just couldnt live with a man whod lost his humanity.
Our grown son, living in Birmingham with his girlfriend, took his fathers side. “Mum, are you mental? Youd wreck our family over some stray?”
“There *is* no family left,” I sighed. “Its not about the dog. Its about your father becoming a monster.”
“Fine. Live with your mutt, then.”
He cut contact. The flat was mine before marriage, so Dmitri got nothing. He could rot in his parents farmhouse for all I cared.
Benny stayed. I nursed him backfed him, loved him, restored his faith in people. Soon, I started volunteering at a local shelter. The manager warned me, “Were skint. Cant pay much.”
“Im not here for money,” I said.
Thats where I met Rustyan old, surly terrier whod been betrayed. His owner tied him to a lamppost and drove off. For three years, no one wanted him. “Too old,” they said.
I posted his photos everywhere. A woman called, eager for a beagle. “Hes a mix, but sweet,” I said. “Just needs love after being abandoned.”
She took him. Two weeks later, she rang: “Can you take him back? Were off to Spain.”
Rusty returned skeletal. The vet found serious issues. When I asked for help with bills, she snapped, “Keep him. Dont call again.”
Looking into his eyes, I knewhed stay with me.
My son visited once, saw two dogs, and scoffed, “Dad was right. Youre barking mad.”
“Vadik, listen”
“Two strays? Youve lost it!” He slammed the door.
I whispered after him, “Im not alone. These loyal souls wont betray me.”
The shelter offered to take Rusty back. “No,” I said. “Hell live out his days loved.”
Some might say I ruined my family. But those whove loved an animal will understand.
**Lesson learnt:** A mans character is judged by how he treats those who can do nothing for him. And sometimes, the ones who love unconditionally walk on four legs.
