So, this happened after five years of marriage. Me and my husband finally decided to take a breather and go on a little getaway to the Lake District—nothing fancy, not abroad or some posh hotel, just a change of scenery to unwind from the endless work shifts, the mortgage, and daily chaos. The only thing stressing me out before leaving was who’d look after our sweet little dog, Charlie. We adopted him two years ago from a shelter, and honestly, he became like a child to us—loyal, clever, and endlessly affectionate.
None of our mates could help, and my mother-in-law’s husband has awful allergies, so in the end, I had to ask my mum. She wasn’t thrilled, but she agreed. At the time, it seemed like she’d finally accepted that we had a dog—she even brought him treats sometimes and played with him. I packed everything—his food, toys, bed, bowls—and dropped him off at hers.
I left feeling relaxed. But when we got back a week later, the first thing I noticed was the silence. Charlie wasn’t there. No bowls, no toys, no bed. I panicked and rang my mum. She took forever to answer, and when she finally did, she said it so calmly, like she was talking about an old jumper she’d donated—
“I took him back to the shelter. You lot should be having kids by now, not fussing over a dog.”
My heart just dropped. Felt like the floor vanished under me. I couldn’t believe my own mum—the woman who raised me—would do that. Betray us. Betray Charlie. Without even a warning.
She kept going on about how we “wouldn’t be distracted anymore,” how my “motherly instincts” should be for a baby, not a dog, but I stopped listening. Hung up, and me and my husband drove straight to the shelter.
The staff there were frosty at first. Turns out, my mum had spun them some story about us expecting a baby and not coping with Charlie. We begged, showed photos, vet records, texts—anything to prove he was ours. Eventually, they believed us. Charlie came home, but he was scared, confused. Took him a minute to even come near me. When he finally curled up in my lap, I just sobbed like I’d never done before. The shelter asked for our number to check in on him sometimes.
Haven’t spoken to my mum since. Don’t know if I can. How do you forgive someone when what’s family to you is just an “obstacle” to them?
I’m only 25. Me and my husband love each other, work hard, pay our mortgage. Life isn’t perfect, but we’re happy. Yeah, we’re not rushing into kids—because we want to be ready. Emotionally, financially, physically. We’re not saying never, but we won’t do it just to tick some box for “mum’s approval.”
And Charlie? Maybe to some people, he’s just a pet. But to us, he’s family. If I’m not ready for a baby yet, that doesn’t mean I don’t have love or care to give. Charlie gets all of that. He’s taught us responsibility, loyalty, unconditional love.
Mum refused to see any of that. To her, life’s got to be her way: get married, have kids, or you’re failing. Never mind that we’re building something steady, respecting each other, no drama.
She’s tried reaching out—texts, calls, even showed up once. But I’m not ready to open that door. Betrayal isn’t just a mistake. It’s a choice, cold and calculated. That’s what she did. And that’s a pain I’m still learning to carry.
Right now, Charlie’s asleep on my lap. He’s started smiling again. So have I. We’re still a family. And someday, when the time’s right, our kids will grow up with him. Because Charlie? He’s our first son. The one who taught us how to love without conditions.
