The kinfolk wasted no timethey simply set the box of kittens out on the street. Corgi followed them silently and refused outright to return to the empty flat. To him, that home meant nothing now…
The little dog, lovingly named Corgi by his grandfather, wasnt actually a corgi at all. At a glance, he might have passed for one of those comical, short-legged creatures, but up close, he was a proper mongrelred fur, stubby legs, and a tail that wagged merrily whenever he met anyone.
Corgi was known for his boundless friendliness, endless curiosity, and rare kindness. In the nearby park where his elderly master took him for walks, he was often called “a right menace”and not without reason. The moment the lead came off, hed barrel into the thick of things, desperate to befriend every dog and person in sight. Running, playing, making friendsthat was his true purpose.
Dog owners who spotted Corgi often turned on their heels and walked the other waythey knew theyd be stuck there for ages otherwise. Even their own dogs couldnt resist the little scamp, refusing to come when called. So the owners would resort to whistling, shouting, even waving sticks to shoo him off.
But Corgi never took offencehe simply didnt know the feeling.
His master, though, often grew sad watching from a distance as people tried to chase off his beloved pet. Sometimes hed step in, but Corgi seemed to understandhed tug at the old mans trousers, pulling him away, then curl up in his lap, licking his hands and face until the world felt right again.
One afternoon, while the old man dozed on a park bench, Corgi wandered off as usual. When the old man awoke, he found not just his dog beside himbut a cat as well. A ginger, whiskered creature sat stiffly, staring up at him.
“Found a new friend, have you?” he asked in surprise.
Corgi wagged his tail, licked his masters hand, then the cats facebefore settling between them. The cat, no fool, made itself comfortable and accepted the offered scrapsa bit of chicken and a few dog biscuits. It was clear she wasnt spoiled.
When the old man turned to leave, Corgi planted himself firmly beside his new companion.
“Whats this now?” the old man huffed.
But Corgi made it plainno cat, no going home. The old man sighed.
“Trouble enough as it is…”
But he knew hed lost. “Alright, whiskerssince hes chosen you, come on then. Suppose itll be livelier with you about.”
Later, they learned the “cat” was a she. Months passed, and three fluffy kittens appeared in the flat. Corgi was overjoyed. He cared for them, played with them, even slept curled around them while Pippinas the old man named the motherperched on the windowsill, watching the street.
Life settled into rhythm. The old man bought all the necessities for his odd little family and spent hours reading about cats and dogs. The neighbours chuckled at first, then softenedevery morning, theyd see him leading his motley crew on their walk: Corgi, Pippin, and the three kittens.
The park gave way to the gardennearer and safer. Now neighbours stopped to chat, some even sitting awhile. Corgi, Pippin, and the kittens were content.
Then came the day no one expected. On a bright weekend, as the garden buzzed with life, Corgi suddenly whined. Everyone rushed over.
The old man sat on the bench, slightly tilted, a faint smile on his lips. His eyes rested on his little friendsbut they no longer saw.
For days, neighbours fed the animals. Then distant relatives arrived. They were the ones who carried the box of kittens and Pippin out to the street. Corgi followed. The home without his master held no meaning now.
The neighbours watched with pity, but none could take all five. So they remained by the benchCorgi, Pippin, and the three kittens.
Autumn rains came, cold and unkind. Pippin shielded the little ones with her body, while Corgi draped himself over them without hesitation, keeping them warm.
The first to break was the sharp-tongued old woman from the first floor. She stormed out in her dressing gown, cursing the world, scooped up the kittens, clutched Pippin to her chest, and snapped at Corgi:
“Come on then, home with you!”
The dog trotted obediently behind, tail wagging.
Now the whole troupe walked with heror her grandchildren, whom her children had “dumped” on her. And to everyones surprise, the old woman became the heart of the house. Neighbours began bringing cakes, sausages, all manner of treatsmostly for the little ones. She grumbled, of course, but often wiped her eyes in secret.
Then one day, the caretaker visited. He drank tea, chatted, and as he left, the old woman called after him:
“Oi! You left your envelope! Its full of money!”
He turned. “Didnt forget a thing. Thats yours. From the whole house. However much folk could spare. Dont refuse, now.”
The old woman froze. Then she stepped forward and kissed his cheek, surprising even herself. The caretaker walked off, forgetting the lift, muttering under his breath.
“Well?” his wife asked at home. “Did she take it?”
“Course,” he smiled. “Told her it was from everyone.”
“Good,” she nodded. “Weve enough. And her, three grandkids alone… Tell you whattake her money every month. Ill sort it through my friend at social services, make it look like aid…”
The old woman, still standing outside, heard it all. She covered her mouth and wept silently. Then she went inside, leaned against the doorframe, and said to Corgi:
“See, love… Sometimes a lie can be a blessing.”
Corgi pressed close, Pippin nuzzled her hand. She stroked them gently and whispered:
“Thank you. Not for me. For the little ones…”
And that was that. Or perhaps not. The old woman raised all three grandchildren. Married off two of them. Corgi and Pippin live with one now. Still loved.
Thats the tale. The rest… best left unsaid. No need to spoil the mood.
