**Diary Entry**
The relatives wasted no timethey put the box of kittens out on the street. Corgi followed them silently and refused point-blank to go back inside. For him, everything was over now
They didnt hesitatejust left the box right there. Corgi trailed behind without a sound, stubbornly rejecting the emptiness of the flat. That place meant nothing to him anymore.
The little dog, lovingly named Corgi by Grandad, wasnt actually a corgi at all. From a distance, he might have passed for oneshort legs and allbut up close, he was clearly a mix: red fur, stubby legs, and a tail that never stopped wagging whenever he met someone.
Corgi was endlessly sociable, curious, and kinder than most. In the local park, where his elderly owner took him for walks, the regulars called him a “proper menace”and not without reason. The second his lead came off, hed barrel into the thick of it, desperate to befriend every dog and human in sight. Running, playing, making friendsthat was his only goal.
Other dog owners often turned on their heels the moment they spotted himthey knew theyd be stuck there forever otherwise. Their dogs couldnt resist him either, refusing to leave. So the owners resorted to calling, coaxing, even waving sticks to shoo him away.
But Corgi never took offencehe didnt even understand the concept.
His owner, though, would grow quiet and sad watching people try to chase off his beloved pet. Sometimes hed step in, but Corgi always seemed to understandhed tug at the mans trouser leg, pull him away, then curl up in his lap, licking his hands and face until the sadness faded.
One afternoon, while the old man dozed on a park bench, Corgi wandered off as usual. When the man woke, he found not just his dog beside him, but a cat tooa ginger one with a scruffy muzzle, staring right at him.
“Found yourself a friend, eh?” he asked, surprised.
Corgi wagged his tail, licked the mans hand, then the cat for good measure before settling between them. The cat wasnt fussyshe took the offered chicken and dog biscuits without complaint. Shed clearly known harder times.
When it was time to leave, Corgi planted himself firmly beside his new companion.
“Whats this now?” the old man huffed.
But Corgi made it clearno cat, no going home. The man sighed.
“Weve got enough trouble as it is”
But he knew hed lost.
“Alright, you whiskered thingsince hes chosen you, youd better come along. Might even liven the place up.”
Later, they discovered the “cat” was actually a she. A few months on, three fluffy kittens appeared in the flat. Corgi was overjoyedhe played with them, napped with them, watched over them while Whiskers (as the old man had named her) perched on the windowsill, keeping an eye on the street.
Life settled into a rhythm. The old man bought everything the little family needed and spent hours reading about cats and dogs online. The neighbours laughed at first, then softenedevery morning, theyd see him walking his odd little troop: Corgi, Whiskers, and the three kittens.
The park was replaced by the courtyardcloser, safer. Now, neighbours stopped to chat, some even sitting with him awhile. Corgi, Whiskers, and the kittens were happy.
Then, one sunny weekend, when the courtyard was full of life and laughter, Corgi let out a sudden whine. Everyone rushed over.
The old man sat on the bench, slightly slumped. A faint smile lingered on his face as he looked at his little friendsbut his eyes were empty.
For days, the neighbours fed the animals. Then the distant relatives arrived. They were the ones who carried the box of kittens and Whiskers out to the street. Corgi followed. The home that no longer held his beloved owner meant nothing now.
The neighbours watched sadly, but none could take in all five. So they stayed there, by the benchCorgi, Whiskers, and the three kittens.
Autumn rains came, cold and unkind. Whiskers shielded the little ones with her body, and Corgiwithout hesitationcurled over them for warmth.
The first to break was the cranky old woman from the first floor. She stormed out in her dressing gown, scolding the world, scooped up the kittens, clutched Whiskers to her chest, and snapped at Corgi:
“Come on then, insidenow!”
The dog trotted obediently after her, tail wagging.
Now the whole lot walked with heror her grandchildren did, when their parents “dropped them off.” And, against all odds, the old woman became the heart of the building. Neighbours started bringing cakes, sausages, all sortsmostly for the little ones. Shed grumble, but more and more often, shed secretly wipe her eyes.
One day, the caretaker dropped by. He sat, drank tea, chatted. As he got up to leave, the old woman called after him:
“Oi! You left this envelopeits full of money!”
He turned.
“Didnt forget it. Its for you. From the whole building. However much each could spare. Dont refuse, please.”
She froze. Then, surprising even herself, she kissed his cheek. He leftforgot the lift, took the stairs muttering under his breath.
“Well?” his wife asked at home. “Did she take it?”
“Course,” he grinned. “Told her it was from everyone.”
“Good,” she nodded. “Weve got enough. And her, alone with three grandkids Tell you whattake her some every month. Ill sort it through my mate at social services, make it look like benefits”
The old woman, still standing outside, heard every word. She covered her mouth, crying silently. Then she went in, leaned on the doorframe, and said to Corgi:
“See, love Sometimes a lie can be a blessing.”
Corgi pressed close. Whiskers nuzzled her hand. She stroked them gently and whispered:
“Thank you. Not for me. For the grandkids.”
And that was that. Or maybe not. She raised all three grandchildren. Married off two. Corgi and Whiskers live with one of them now. Still loved.
Thats the story. The rest best left in the shadows. No need to spoil the mood.
