The relatives wasted no timethey carried the box of kittens straight out to the street. Corgi followed them silently and refused point-blank to return to the flat. For him, it was all over now…
The relatives didnt hesitatethey simply left the box of kittens outside. Corgi trailed behind without a sound and stubbornly refused to go back into the empty flat. To him, that home meant nothing anymore.
The little dog, lovingly called Corgi by his elderly owner, wasnt actually a corgi at all. From a distance, he might have resembled one of those short-legged, cheerful dogs, but up close, he was undeniably a muttginger fur, stubby legs, and a tail that never stopped wagging whenever he met someone.
Corgi was sociable to a fault, endlessly curious, and uncommonly kind. In the local park where his owner often took him, people called him “a right menace”and for good reason. The moment his lead came off, hed dart into the thick of things, eager to make friends with every dog and human in sight. Running, playing, meeting new facesthat was his true purpose.
Dog owners, spotting Corgi from afar, often turned on their heels and leftknowing otherwise, theyd be stuck there for ages. Their own dogs couldnt resist the lively little scamp either, refusing to return when called. So, owners resorted to waving, shouting, even brandishing sticks to shoo Corgi away.
But he never took offencehe didnt know the meaning of it.
His old master, however, often grew sad watching people try to chase off his beloved pet. Sometimes hed step in, but Corgi seemed to understandhed tug at the mans trouser leg, pull him away, then curl up in his lap, licking his hands and face until the sadness passed.
One day, while the old man dozed on a park bench, Corgi wandered off as usual. When the man woke, he found not just his dog beside him, but a cat tooa ginger tabby perched there, staring at him intently.
“Made a new friend, have you?” he asked, surprised.
Corgi wagged his tail, licked his owner, then the catbefore settling beside them. The cat wasnt daft eitherit stayed put, accepting the offered scraps: some chicken and a few dog biscuits. Clearly, life hadnt spoiled her.
When the old man stood to leave, Corgi planted himself firmly beside his new companion.
“Whats this now?” the man exclaimed.
But Corgi made it plain: no cat, no going home. The old man protested”Weve got enough trouble as it is”but in the end, he sighed.
“Alright, whiskersif hes picked you, youd best come along. Might liven things up.”
Later, they discovered the “cat” was actually a she. A few months on, three fluffy kittens appeared in the flat. Corgi was over the moon. He watched over them, played with them, even napped beside them while Whiskersas the old man named herperched on the windowsill, eyeing the street.
Life settled into rhythm. The old man bought everything his new family needed, happily reading up on cats and dogs online. The neighbours chuckled at first, then softenedevery morning, theyd see him walking his mismatched little crew: Corgi, Whiskers, and the three kittens.
The park gave way to the gardencloser and safer. Now, neighbours stopped to chat, some even joining him on the bench. Corgi, Whiskers, and the kittens were content.
Then, the unthinkable happened. One sunny weekend, as the garden buzzed with life, Corgi suddenly yelped. Everyone rushed over.
The old man sat on the bench, slightly slumped. A faint smile lingered on his face, his eyes fixed on his little friendsbut they saw nothing anymore.
For days, neighbours fed the animals. Then distant relatives arrived. They were the ones who carried the box of kittens and Whiskers out to the street. Corgi followed. The home that no longer held his beloved master meant nothing now.
The neighbours watched sadly, but none could take in all five. So they stayed there by the benchCorgi, Whiskers, and the three kittens.
Autumn rains came, cold and unkind. Whiskers shielded the little ones with her body while Corgi lay over them without hesitation, guarding them from the chill.
The first to break was the grumpy old woman from the first floor. She stormed out in her dressing gown, cursing the world, scooped up the kittens, clutched Whiskers to her chest, and snapped at Corgi:
“Right, homenow!”
The dog trotted obediently after her, tail wagging.
Now the whole troupe walked with heror her grandchildren did, whenever their parents “dropped them off” with her. And to everyones surprise, the old woman became the heart of the house. Neighbours started bringing cakes, sausages, all sorts of treatsmostly for the little ones. She grumbled, of course, but more often than not, shed secretly wipe her eyes.
One day, the caretaker stopped by. He sat, drank tea, chatted. As he left, the old woman called out:
“Oi! You left your envelope! Its full of money!”
He paused. “Didnt forget a thing. Thats for you. From the whole block. However much folks could spare. Dont refuse, please.”
The old woman froze. Then she stepped forward and, to her own shock, kissed his cheek. The caretaker walked offforgetting the lift, muttering to himself as he climbed the stairs.
“Well?” his wife asked at home. “Did she take it?”
“Course she did,” he grinned. “Told her it was from everyone.”
“Good,” she nodded. “Weve got enough. Shes on her own with those three grandkids. Tell you whattake her money every month. Ill have my mate at social services make it look like its from them…”
The old woman, still standing outside, heard every word. She covered her mouth, crying quietly. Then she went inside, paused in the doorway, and said to Corgi:
“See, love… Sometimes a lie can be a blessing.”
Corgi pressed close. Whiskers nuzzled her hand. The old woman stroked them and whispered:
“Thank you. Not for me. For the grandkids.”
And that was that. Or maybe not. The old woman raised all three grandchildren. Married off two of them. Corgi and Whiskers live with one of them nowstill loved.
Thats the story. The rest… best leave it be. No need to spoil the mood.
