**Diary Entry – Love Came Unexpectedly, But Something Went Wrong**
It happened one evening as Emily was walking home from work, cutting through the little park like she always did. Out of nowhere, a tiny puppy tumbled from the bushes right at her feet. He was plump and round, like a little dumpling.
“Oh, where did you come from, you sweet thing?” she murmured, bending down to look at him.
The pup whined, wagged his stubby tail, and nuzzled her trainers. She picked him up, and the way he gazed at her—so loyal, so sad—she couldn’t leave him there.
Emily carried him home, opened her flat, and set him down. He sniffed around, exploring his new surroundings.
“What am I going to do with you? I’ve never even had a dog before… Oh, and I’ll need to name you.” She had no idea what breed he was—whether he’d grow big or stay small—but he was already padding around curiously. She looked around, but he’d disappeared.
“Oi, where’ve you got to? Hey, Charlie!” she called, and out he rolled from behind the telly stand. “Oh, so you’re a Charlie, eh? Responded to that straight away, didn’t you? Right then, you’re Charlie now, but if you grow huge, we’ll upgrade you to Charles.”
The pup whined again—hungry. Emily checked the fridge but found nothing suitable.
“I’ll have to nip out for some milk. Better yet, the pet shop just across the road—they’ll know what to do.”
“Alright, Charlie, I’m off to the shop. Be back soon—be good.” She waved, closed the door carefully behind her, ignoring his hopeful paws scratching at it.
At the pet shop, she explained her predicament to the shopkeeper.
“I haven’t a clue what to feed him. Bit out of my depth here.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it. Let me walk you through the basics, and Google’s your friend.”
She walked home with bags full of puppy food and supplies. Over the weeks, little Charlie grew, and Emily learned fast—how to care for him, even walking him on a lead, terrified he’d bolt.
“Charlie, no. Charlie, leave it!” she scolded.
Her biggest worry was leaving him alone for work.
“What’s he chewing now?”
Charlie grew into a full-sized Charles—not massive, but sturdy, some sort of brown, short-haired mix. Her neighbour Margaret, who owned a pedigree Alsatian and knew her breeds, took one look and said,
“Likely a Labrador cross, but he’s got the look.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Emily laughed. “I didn’t pick him—he picked me.”
A year on, he was still Charlie unless he misbehaved—then it was Charles. He obeyed her every command. Mornings and evenings, he proudly “walked her,” as she joked.
“Charles, thanks to you, I never get a lie-in. You’re worse than an alarm clock.” She ruffled his ears.
Weekends were his favourite—long walks to the park by the lake, where he could run off-leash in the dog area. He’d trot home panting, tongue lolling. Charlie was her faithful friend, comforting her through rough days. She couldn’t imagine life without him.
Before Charlie found her, she’d broken up with her boyfriend, Daniel. They’d lived together in her flat for a year, arguing constantly. He was hopelessly untidy—shoes left in the hall, coats dumped on the console, toothpaste smeared on the mirror.
“Dan, there’s a place for things. Hang your coat up. I’m not your maid.”
“Why bother? I’ll just wear it tomorrow,” he’d shrug.
She’d never met anyone so messy. Worse, he was possessive—always questioning where she’d been, who called. Eventually, she kicked him out.
Her three-bed flat in central London was inherited from her nan, who’d moved in with her parents when her health declined. Her grandfather, a surgeon, had owned it before passing young from a heart attack.
Emily worked nearby, so she never kept Charlie waiting long. She’d shop for his food on her lunch break, then hurry home to find him patiently waiting by the door, leash in mouth.
Then came Oliver. She wasn’t looking for love—still bruised from Daniel—but as they say, it sneaks up on you.
Their romance was effortless. No fights, no interrogations—just easy. Oliver was quiet, thoughtful, full of surprises. At twenty-six, she’d never been happier.
“Can it really be this simple?” she wondered.
They married within a year. Only one problem: Oliver hated dogs.
When they discussed moving, he insisted they renovate his place—”But the dog stays behind.”
Emily was baffled. How could anyone dislike animals? Worse, Charlie ignored Oliver completely. She refused to abandon him, so after endless debates, they settled in her flat.
“Don’t expect me to lift a finger for that mutt,” Oliver warned.
She never asked.
Then her cousin died in a car crash, and Emily had to travel to Manchester for the funeral. Reluctantly, Oliver agreed to watch Charlie.
When she returned, Oliver wasn’t home. Charlie greeted her excitedly, so she took him out—but instead of heading to the park, he dragged her toward a café.
“Charlie, where are we going?” she muttered, letting him lead.
Outside the café, he growled. Emily froze—Oliver’s car was parked there.
“He’s supposed to be at work.”
She tied Charlie to the railing and stepped inside. There was Oliver, holding hands with a pretty young woman, oblivious to the world.
Emily bolted outside, untied Charlie, and walked blindly until he guided her to a bench. She sat numbly as he rested his head on her lap.
“If I confront him now, he’ll lie. ‘Business meeting,’” she thought bitterly.
She needed proof. That night, Oliver came home complaining about overtime.
“Boss signed new contracts—might be late all week.”
“Hope the pay’s good,” she said flatly.
The next morning, his phone buzzed. A message: *”Good morning, love. Miss you. Can’t wait for tonight. Xx”*
Emily’s stomach turned.
That evening, Charlie led her back to the café. Oliver arrived, arm-in-arm with the same woman. Emily hid behind a tree, heart pounding.
After a moment, she marched inside—just as they clinked glasses and kissed.
“Hello, lovebirds,” she said coolly. “Business meeting, is it?”
Oliver paled. The girl pouted, “Timmy, who’s this?”
“His wife,” Emily said. “He forgot to mention that, didn’t he?”
The girl’s face fell.
“Right then, Oliver. Don’t bother coming home. I’ll pack your things. Good luck.”
She walked out, Charlie trotting beside her. Later, Oliver screamed and begged—”It was just once!”—but she didn’t budge.
For weeks, she cried, wondering why people betrayed trust. At least dogs never lied.
**Lesson learned:** Some men aren’t worth the heartache. But a dog? He’ll always have your back.
