So, okay, this all happened after five years of marriage. Me and my husband finally decided to take a breather—nothing fancy, just a little getaway to the Lake District. No posh hotels abroad, just a cheap cottage to switch off from work shifts, the mortgage, and the daily grind. Only thing stressing me before we left? Who’d look after our rescue dog, Alfie. We’d had him two years—sweetest, cleverest little terrier, basically our fur baby.
Friends were busy, my mother-in-law’s husband has terrible allergies, so in the end, I asked my mum. She grumbled but agreed. Honestly, I thought she’d made peace with Alfie—she’d even buy him treats sometimes, play fetch. I packed everything: his kibble, toys, bed, bowls, dropped him off and left feeling fine.
A week later, we’re back, and—nothing. No Alfie. No bowls, no bed, nada. I rang Mum straight away, panicking. She took ages to answer, then just says, dead calm, like she’s talking about binning an old jumper: *”I took him back to the shelter. You should be having proper babies, not dog-sitting.”*
I swear, my heart just—dropped. Couldn’t breathe. This woman raised me, and she’d *lied*, betrayed us, tossed Alfie like rubbish without even asking. She kept babbling about “no distractions now,” how I should “channel my maternal energy” into a human, but I hung up. Me and my husband drove straight to the shelter.
Staff there were icy. Turns out Mum spun them some tale about us expecting a baby and “not coping” with Alf. Took forever to convince them—showing vet records, photos, begging. Finally, they believed us. Alf was terrified when we got him back, shivering, but when he nuzzled into me? I sobbed like a kid. Shelter asked for updates, which we’re happy to give.
Haven’t spoken to Mum since. How do you forgive someone who treats your family like an *obstacle* to grandkids? I’m 25! We’re happy—love each other, pay our bills, *will* have kids when we’re ready. Not because she demands it. Alf’s not “just a dog.” He’s family. Loving him *is* practice—for patience, responsibility, putting someone else first.
Mum’s tried calling. Texts. Even showed up once. I ignore her. Maybe one day I’ll forgive. Not yet. Betrayal isn’t a mistake—it’s a choice. And right now? Alf’s snoozing on my lap, tail wagging in his sleep. We’re okay. When we do have kids, he’ll be their big brother. Our scruffy little teacher—showing us how to love unconditionally.
