The relatives wasted no timethey carried the box of kittens straight out to the street. Corgi followed silently, refusing point-blank to step back inside the flat. To him, it was all over now
They didnt hesitatethe box of kittens was simply left outside. Corgi trailed after them without a sound, stubbornly refusing to return to the empty flat. That place meant nothing to him anymore.
The little dog, lovingly called Corgi by his elderly owner, wasnt a corgi at all. From a distance, he might have resembled one of those stubby-legged, cheerful pups. Up close, however, he was a proper mongrelreddish fur, short legs, and a tail that never stopped wagging whenever he met anyone.
Corgi was endlessly sociable, brimming with curiosity and an uncommon kindness. In the local park where his owner took him for walks, he was jokingly called a “menace”and for good reason. The moment the lead came off, he’d dash into the thick of things, eager to befriend every dog and human in sight. Running, playing, making friendsthat was his purpose.
Other dog owners, spotting Corgi from afar, often turned on their heels and left. They knew theyd be stuck there forever otherwise. Their dogs couldn’t resist the lively little scamp either, refusing to budge once they met him. The owners would resort to calling, coaxing, even waving sticks to shoo Corgi away.
But he never took offencehe simply didnt know how.
His owner, though, would often grow sad, watching from a distance as people tried to chase his beloved pet away. Sometimes hed step in, but Corgi seemed to understandhed tug at the mans trouser leg, pull him aside, then curl into his lap, licking his hands and face until everything felt right again.
One day, while the old man dozed on a bench in the park, Corgi wandered off as usual. When the man woke, he found not only his dog beside him but a cat tooa ginger, whiskered creature staring intently at him.
“Made a new friend, have you?” he asked, surprised.
Corgi wagged his tail, licked his owners hand, then the cats head, before settling between them. The cat wasnt foolishshe stayed put and accepted the offered scrapssome chicken and a few dog biscuits. It was clear she hadnt been spoiled.
When the man got up to leave, Corgi planted himself firmly beside his new companion.
“Whats this now?” the old man huffed.
But Corgi made it plainwithout the cat, he wasnt going anywhere. The man tried to protest.
“Weve enough trouble as it is”
Yet he knew he had no choice. With a sigh, he relented.
“Alright, you whiskered freeloaderif hes chosen you, youd better come home with us. Might even liven the place up.”
Later, they discovered the “cat” was a she. A few months on, three fluffy kittens appeared in the flat. Corgi was overjoyed. He cared for them, played with them, even slept curled around them while Whiskersas the old man had named the motherkept watch from the windowsill.
Life settled into a happy rhythm. The old man bought everything the little family needed and spent hours reading up on cats and dogs. The neighbours chuckled at first, then grew fond of the sightevery morning, the old man would walk his odd little troupe: Corgi, Whiskers, and the three kittens.
The park was replaced by the gardencloser and safer. Now, neighbours stopped to chat, some even sitting awhile. 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 slumped on the bench, a faint smile on his face. His eyes, though, held no light
For days, neighbours fed the animals. Then distant relatives arrived. They were the ones who put the box of kittens and Whiskers out on the street. Corgi followed. Without his beloved master, that home meant nothing now.
The neighbours watched with pity, but none could take in all five. So they stayedCorgi, Whiskers, and the three kittenshuddled by the bench.
Autumn rains came, cold and unrelenting. Whiskers shielded the kittens with her body, while Corgi draped himself over them without hesitation, keeping them warm.
It was the sharp-tongued old woman from the first floor who broke first. She rushed out in her dressing gown, scolding the world at large. Scooping up the kittens, she clutched Whiskers to her chest and snapped at Corgi:
“Come on then, home with younow!”
The dog trotted obediently after her, tail wagging.
Now the whole household walked with heror her grandchildren did, the ones her own children had “dumped” on her. And, surprisingly, she became the heart of the house. Neighbours began leaving cakes, pies, and treatsmostly for the little ones. She grumbled, but more often than not, shed secretly wipe her eyes.
One day, the caretaker stopped by. He sipped tea, made small talk. As he stood to leave, the old woman called after him:
“Oi! You left your envelope! Its full of money!”
He paused.
“Didnt forget a thing. Thats for you. From the whole block. Everyone chipped in what they could. Dont refuse it, please.”
She stood frozen. Then, surprising even herself, she kissed his cheek. The caretaker left, forgetting the lift, muttering to himself as he climbed the stairs.
“Well?” his wife asked at home. “Did she take it?”
“Course she did,” he smiled. “Told her it was from everyone.”
“Good,” she nodded. “Weve enough. Shes got three grandkids to raise alone. Tell you whattake her money every month. Ill sort it through my friend at social services, make it look like aid from them”
The old woman, still standing outside, heard everything. She covered her mouth, weeping silently. Then she went inside, paused in the doorway, and said to Corgi:
“See, love Sometimes even lies can be a blessing.”
Corgi pressed close; Whiskers nudged her hand. She stroked them gently, adding softly:
“Thank you. Not for me. For the grandchildren”
That was the end of it. Or perhaps not. The old woman raised all three grandchildren. She even saw two of them married. Corgi and Whiskers live with one of them now. Still loved.
Thats how the story goes. The rest well, best leave it be. No need to spoil the mood.
