CHOOSE: EITHER YOUR DOG OR ME! IVE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS MONGREL STINK! DECLARED MY HUSBAND. SHE CHOSE HER HUSBAND, DROVE THE DOG OUT TO THE WOODS BUT IN THE EVENING, HE SAID HE WAS LEAVING HER FOR ANOTHER
Harriet loved her husband, Oliver, more than words could say. They had been together for five years, no children yet, but there was Winston an elderly Border Collie Harriet had rescued as a puppy, long before Oliver ever came along.
Winston was family. Clever and loyal, he seemed to understand her without a word. But age was catching up: Winstons legs ached, an odd smell clung to his shaggy coat, tufts of fur gathered in every corner.
Oliver had been patient. But when Winston failed to wait for his walk and had an accident on the fresh parquet in the hallway, Olivers patience snapped.
Enough! Thats it! Oliver bellowed, dragging the poor old dog towards the puddle. Im living in a kennel! Stench, hairs in my dinner now puddles as well! Harriet, its me or that decrepit beast!
Oliver, what do you expect me to do? Hes twelve…, Harriet pleaded, cradling her guilty old friend tight.
Take him to a shelter! Out to the woods! Have him put down I dont care! snapped Oliver. If hes not gone by this evening, Im leaving. I want a home, not a kennel full of fleas and filth!
Harriet had never been strong. She was terrified of loneliness, terrified of losing Oliver who made the home secure, who promised holidays in Devon, whod spoken of shared mortgages
She chose her husband.
She drove Winston out into the countryside.
Winston clambered into the car, his joints creaking, whimpering with every shove, but he licked her hand. He thought they were going for a nice walk.
Harriet wept with every mile.
She stopped by the edge of a gloomy wood, almost fifteen miles from town. She tied Winstons lead round a tree so he wouldnt run after her.
Im sorry, Winston… Please forgive me, she whispered, too ashamed to meet his milk-clouded eyes.
Winston didnt fight. He simply sat and watched, as if he understood everything already.
She left a bowl of kibble, returned to her car, slammed her foot on the accelerator. Glancing in the rear-view mirror, she caught him straining against the lead, barking, croaky and desperate.
That howl echoed all the way home.
Harriet returned, wrecked and hollowed out by grief. Her eyes raw from crying.
Oliver was already packing his bags.
You what are you doing? she stammered. Hes gone I drove him away…
Oliver looked at her with a chilly smirk.
Well done. Quick work. But you know whatits over anyway.
Over? Where are you going?
To Emmas. You know, from Accounts. Weve been seeing each other for six months. Shes pregnant.
Harriet collapsed onto a chair; the world spun off its axis.
But you you gave me an ultimatum Dog or you Why?
I was testing you, Oliver sneered. Seeing if youd finally show some backbone. Thought you might even stand up for yourself. Turns out I was wrong. You threw out your only friend, and for what? I cant trust someone like that. If youd abandon a dog whos loved you for a decade, youd toss me into a skip at the first sign of illness.
He clicked his suitcase shut.
Goodbye, Harriet. And by the way Winston was the only man in this house. Youre just a traitor.
As the door slammed, Harriet wailed.
Only then did she understand what shed done. For the sake of someone who never loved her, shed shattered the soul of the one who adored her.
She grabbed her car keys and sped into the wet, unwelcoming dark.
Night had fallen. Rain sheeted down.
She reached the woods in the middle of the night.
The lead was chewed through, the bowl overturned. Winston was gone.
Winston! Winston, come on, boy! she cried, stumbling through the slick blackness, brambles and branches whipping her skin.
She searched for three days. Posters on every lane, desperate posts to dog lovers throughout the country. She didnt sleep, couldnt eat.
On the fourth day, the phone rang.
Did you lose a Border Collie? We found one on the motorway. Hit by a lorry.
Harriet drove out to identify him.
It was Winston.
He must have chewed through the lead and tried to find his way home. Limping, frightened, stoic, he ran toward the only person hed ever loved the person who had left him. He died at the roadside, still waiting.
Harriet buried Winston.
Two years have passed.
She lives alone. She never remarried she cant trust others, nor herself.
Oliver lives happily with his new wife and child. He remembers Harriet as a bad dream, just another test, a neat excuse to leave with no guilt, to heap blame onto her.
But Harriet Harriet volunteers at a shelter for elderly dogs. She scrubs out kennels, cleans up messes, tends to old wounds. Shes spent every day since trying to make amends.
Every night, in her dreams, she finds herself beneath the same tree. Winston sits beneath it, gazing at her. She calls and calls, but he does not come. He simply looks, not with anger, but with an endless, mournful canine sorrow.
And in that gaze she sees her sentence.
Moral: Betrayal is never forgiven. Never sacrifice your loyal friends for those who make you choose. Someone who loves you would never force your hand. And if they do they have already betrayed you, and to obey is to seal your misery with a tragic mistake.
