The relatives promptly set the box of kittens out on the street. Corgi followed them, refusing point-blank to return to the flat. For him, it was all over now
No fuss was madethe box of kittens was simply left by the kerb. Corgi trailed behind in silence, adamant he wouldnt step foot back inside the empty home. To him, it meant nothing anymore.
The scruffy little dog, lovingly named Corgi by his grandad, wasnt actually a corgi at all. From a distance, he mightve passed for one of those stubby-legged rascals, but up close, he was a proper mongrela russet coat, short legs, and a wagging tail that never stilled when someone was near.
Corgi was impossibly friendly, endlessly curious, and kinder than most. In the local park where his elderly owner walked him, folks called him a “right menace”and for good reason. The moment the lead came off, hed dart into the thick of it, desperate to befriend every dog and person in sight. Running, playing, making palsthat was his whole world.
Dog owners who spotted him would often turn on their heels and leavethey knew theyd be stuck there for ages otherwise. Their own dogs couldnt resist his scruffy charm, refusing to heel no matter how much they were called. The owners would resort to shouts, gestures, even the odd stick, trying to shoo Corgi away.
But he never took offencehe didnt even know how.
His owner, though, would sometimes grow terribly sad, watching from the sidelines as people tried to chase off his beloved pet. Occasionally, hed step in, but Corgi seemed to understandtugging at his trouser leg, pulling him away, then curling into his lap, licking his hands and face until the hurt melted away.
One day, as the old man dozed on a park bench, Corgi wandered off as usual. When his owner woke, he found not just his scruffy companion beside him, but a cat tooa ginger, whiskered thing staring up at him.
“Found yourself a friend, have you?” he asked, surprised.
Corgi wagged his tail, licked the old mans hand, then the cats nose, before plopping down between them. The cat wasnt daftit settled in, accepting the offered scraps of chicken and dog biscuits. It was clear shed had a hard life.
When the man got up to leave, Corgi planted himself firmly beside the cat.
“Whats this, then?” the old man sighed.
But Corgi made it plainno cat, no going home. The man grumbled,
“Weve got enough on our plates as it is”
But he knew hed lost. With a resigned chuckle, he said,
“Alright, you whiskered scoundrelif hes chosen you, youre coming with us. Might liven things up a bit.”
Later, they discovered the “cat” was a she. A few months on, three fluffy kittens appeared in the flat. Corgi was overjoyed. He looked after them, played with them, even slept curled around them while Pippinas the old man named the motherperched on the windowsill, watching the world outside.
Life settled into a gentle rhythm. The old man bought everything the little family needed, spending hours reading up on cats and dogs online. The neighbours laughed at first, then softenedevery morning, theyd see him leading his motley crew on walks: Corgi, Pippin, and the three kittens.
The park gave way to the courtyardcloser, safer. Neighbours stopped to chat, some even joining him on the bench. Corgi, Pippin, and the kittens were happy.
Then, the unthinkable. One sunny weekend, as the courtyard buzzed with life, Corgi let out a sharp whine. Everyone rushed over.
The old man sat on the bench, slightly slumped. A faint smile lingered on his face, his eyes no longer seeing his little friends
For days, neighbours fed the animals. Then the distant relatives arrived. They were the ones who put the box of kittens and Pippin out on the street. Corgi followed them. The home that no longer held his beloved master meant nothing now.
The neighbours watched helplesslynone could take in all five. So they stayed there, by the benchCorgi, Pippin, and the three kittens.
Autumn rains came, cold and unkind. Pippin shielded the little ones with her body, and Corgi, without hesitation, draped himself over them, keeping them warm.
First to break was the sharp-tongued old woman from the first floor. She stormed out in her dressing gown, cursing the world, scooped up the kittens, clutched Pippin to her chest, and snapped at Corgi,
“Come on then, home with younow!”
The dog trotted obediently after her, tail wagging.
Now the whole lot walked with heror her grandchildren did, when they werent “busy.” And oddly enough, the old woman became the heart of the building. Neighbours started leaving treatssausages, cakes, whatever they could spareespecially for the little ones. Shed grumble, but more often than not, shed wipe her eyes when no one was looking.
One day, the caretaker dropped by. He stayed for tea, chatted awhile. As he left, the old woman called after him,
“Oi! You left your envelope! Its full of money!”
He paused.
“Didnt leave a thing. Thats for you. From the whole building. However much we could spare. Dont refuse, now.”
The old woman froze. Then, to her own surprise, she kissed his cheek. The caretaker walked off, forgetting the lift, mumbling to himself as he climbed the stairs.
“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. Shes got three grandkids to feed. Tell you whattake her some every month. Ill sort it with my mate at social servicesmake it look like its from them”
The old woman, still standing outside, heard every word. She covered her mouth, crying softly. Then she went inside, leaning against the doorframe, and said to Corgi,
“See, lad Sometimes a lie can be a blessing.”
Corgi pressed against her, Pippin nuzzling her hand. She stroked them gently, adding under her breath,
“Thank you. Not for me. For the grandchildren.”
And that was that. Or maybe not. The old woman raised all three grandchildren. Saw two of them married. Corgi and Pippin live with one of them now. Still loved.
Thats the story. The rest best leave it be. No sense spoiling the mood.
