Mother, didnt your husband have a point when he said theres something not quite right in your head? I can see now that youre unwell. Have you ever tried seeing a doctor?
Eleanor Whitmore stared at her son, her eyebrows raising in astonishment. He had always been a difficult boy, but to hear him call his own mother unwell right into her eyes felt like a stone being thrown into a still pond.
Eleanor could never have imagined that, after twentyfive years of marriage, she would be the one to initiate the divorce. Yet the day came when she realised she barely knew the man she had spent a quarter of a century with. It seemed that after all those years any person should be readable, front and back, but the truth was far stranger. Edward turned out to be a cold, unfeeling creature.
One rainy evening she found a trembling, skeletal puppy in a back alley, its ribs so pronounced that one could count each one as if they were beads on a rosary. She lifted the frail thing, and Edward erupted into a theatrical outburst.
Lucy, whats left for you to do, is there? he bellowed across the flat. Why bring this wretched thing in here?
Edward, what are you on about? Eleanor asked, genuinely baffled. Look at himhes a walking skeleton, just skin and bones. How can you turn a blind eye?
Everyone gets by, but you? You think youre Mother Teresa or something? Youre the most serious of us all, arent you?
That night Eleanor wept for hours. She mourned the puppys frailty, the shaking of its tiny paws, and the sudden revelation of the man she had once loved. She had always pretended his flaws were invisible, clinging to the comforting lie that perfect people simply do not exist.
But Edward crossed a line that night. How can you be so cruel? she sobbed. Is it really that hard to be just human? To look at this helpless creature and at least try to help it?
His anger was a storm. He made it clear that the wretched thing, as he called the pup, was a nuisance to his nerves.
When will you get rid of it? he snarled. How long must we endure this feeble dog in the house?
He called the puppy a poor thing only because it was gaunt and trembled even when the flat was warm. Instead of lifting a hand to steady the tiny life, he retreated to the garage, joining other men who had fled their own homes, seeking refuge among shadows and empty beer cans.
He would return late, smelling of stale smoke, and launch fresh tirades at Eleanor about the pest shed brought home.
I can understand you dont like animals, Eleanor thought, perched on the sofa, but do you really not care about me? Cant you see how hard this is for me?
It was a constant battle. She frequently asked leave from work to take the puppy to the vet or simply to walk it on the cobbled streets. She feared leaving it alone with Edward; after all those years she no longer recognised the man she had married. The only thing he now seemed capable of doing was nursing a bottle of cheap whisky.
One midday, while at the office, Eleanor felt a strange tightening in her chest, as if an invisible hand were squeezing her heart and a cat were clawing at her soul. She claimed a sudden malaise, left early, and on her hurried return found Edward in the act of a most grotesque crime.
He was carrying the tiny dog toward the garage, as if planning to abandon it forever. She could not forgive that betrayal, and she filed for divorce that very night.
Because of a dog? Edward shouted, flailing his arms. Youve gone mad in your old age!
Eleanor let his words drift past her ears. She did not consider herself old, nor had she lost her mind; she simply understood that she could no longer live with him.
Their adult son, Thomas, lived in Bristol with his girlfriend. When he heard the news, he sided with his father.
Mother, are you alright? Can a dog really tear a family apart? he asked.
Theres no family left, dear, Eleanor sighed, her voice heavy. Im not divorcing you because of a dog, but because your father has lost his humanity.
One can ignore a creature, but you cannot cause it pain and suffering, Thomas retorted. A decent man would never do that.
His explanations failed to sway him. In protest, he cut off contact, insisting that it was his father who had become a monster, not his mother, for abandoning the roof over his head.
The flat they had lived in had been Eleanors property by right of marriage, so Edward could claim no share of the house in the split. The only other estate he owned was a crumbling cottage in the countryside, a place he barely visited, and its fate was as uncertain as the clouds over the moors. Eleanor didnt care.
Edward made his choice. No one forced him to become a heartless inhuman. She shivered at the thought of what might have happened to the puppy had she not intervened in time.
In the end, it was just Eleanor and Biscuit, the rescued pup, who remained. She nursed him back to health, teaching him to trust humans again.
At first she intended to find a good home for him, but fate kept pulling him back into her life.
If Ive taken you in, I must also carry the responsibility, she whispered to the fluffy bundle.
Woof! Biscuit wagged his tail, delighted to stay.
Months later, when Biscuit had grown stout, Eleanor began to visit the local animal shelter in her spare hours, offering help to the creatures abandoned by people like her former husband.
The shelters finances are tight, sighed the manager, Rachel, we cant even pay staff properly.
Its pennies, really, she added. I dont know if youll stay or go
Dont worry, Eleanor replied. Im not here for money; Im here for the cause.
She started coming several times a week, Biscuit trotting beside her. There she met another dog, an old mutt named Mudge, who spent most of his days in a pen next to a sleeping hound. The staff called him Mudge because he perpetually grumbled whenever someone tried to lift him for a walk.
Eleanor had seen Mudge many times, cleaning his pen, but this visit she looked closer. His eyes were deep wells of sorrow, bereft of any faith in peoplejust like Biscuits once had been. She had never noticed that before.
She entered the pen, sat beside him, stroked his head, and wrapped her arms around his frail body. She wanted to spark even a tiny flame of joy in those eyes, but the flame was missing.
She began spending more time with him, learning from a volunteer about his tragic past.
We found him three years ago, wandering the streets of Manchester, staring into strangers eyes, searching for someone, the volunteer explained. Hed been tied to a lamppost by his owner, who then drove off, hoping the dog would wait. He never returned. When they untied him, he roamed the streets looking for his lost master, which is why hes so sad.
Did anyone try to adopt him? Eleanor asked.
No. We only took him because a pen opened up. Hes small, calm, and healthy. A man briefly adopted him, then returned him, saying he wanted a proper dog, not a scrubofthestreet. Its been three years, and no one has claimed him.
Eleanor resolved then: I will find him a home.
She posted pictures of Mudge on every adoption site. A woman called, excited about a beagletype dog.
Its a beagle, though not purebred, Eleanor replied. Age doesnt matter; hes wonderful despite his years.
The only thing that hurt him was a lovers betrayal, which left him a little sad. But love can melt the ice in his heart and bring joy back, the woman said, promising to take him.
Soon Mudge moved into a new house. Eleanor whispered, wiping a tear, May everything be good for you. He gave a muted bark and a sad glance, already missing the woman who had shown him kindness.
A few weeks later, the same woman called, panic in her voice. Could we temporarily return the dog to the shelter? Were going on holiday, and theres no one to look after him.
Were in a tight spot, Eleanor confessed. The shelter has no space.
What am I to do? I cant abandon the children on holiday.
Leave him with me while youre away, Eleanor offered. Two weeks? More?
Yes, two weeks.
When Mudge arrived at the shelters temporary holding area, he was even gaunter, as if fed only once a week.
Whats happened to him? Eleanor asked the caretaker. Has he not been fed?
No, I fed him, but he wouldnt eat. I never forced him. You cant force a dog to eat.
That same day, with Biscuit and Mudge in tow, Eleanor visited the vet. He was seriously ill and needed treatment.
She called the woman, explained everything, and asked for a modest sum to cover the vet bills.
I have no money right now, the woman replied. And you never mentioned he was sick.
So he wasnt ill when you took him? Eleanor retorted.
Do you want me to take the blame? the woman snapped. Just give him back. I dont need him, and dont call again.
Eleanor had not expected such bitterness. She had planned only to look after Mudge briefly. Now she faced the daunting prospect of caring for two dogsphysically and financiallyjust as she was about to retire on a modest pension next year.
She looked into Mudges eyes and saw a spark of joy finally flicker, however faint, despite his failing sight and trembling paws from arthritic joints. That tiny flame told her she had done right. The hardship faded as love grew.
Even though the divorce was final and her son had turned away, he still visited occasionally, hoping to discuss his father. One evening, seeing two dogs instead of one, he blurted out:
Mum, didnt Dad have a point when he said somethings wrong with your mind? I can see now youre crazy. Ever thought of seeing a therapist?
Eleanors eyes widened. He had always been a challenging boy, yet now he hurled such words straight at her.
What are you saying, Tom? she asked, bewildered.
Honestly, Im just saying it! One dog wasnt enough, so you adopted another scrapdog? Have you lost your mind?
Yes, Ive decided because no one else will help them! I wouldnt let your father back in, even if I had no dogs at all.
Fine, live alone then! he snapped, slamming the door.
Eleanor whispered after him, Im not alone, dear. My loyal friends will never leave, betray, or hurt me.
Lucy, if you ever need help, we can take Mudge back, find him a new place, Rachel, the shelter manager, offered later.
No, thank you. Ill keep him; I wont let anyone abandon him again. Hell live out his days in peace with us.
And so the surreal dream continued: a woman, a rescued puppy, an old mutt, and a broken marriage, all tangled together in the fogfilled streets of an English town. Those who love animals will understand Eleanors devotion; others may judge her for tearing a family apart.
What do you think of Edwards and Toms actions? Share your thoughts in the comments, and like if you feel for Eleanors strange, tender world.
