You know, turning 65 made me realise the scariest thing isnt being alone its begging your own kids to call you, feeling like youre just a burden.
Hey Mum, I need you right now, urgent.
My sons voice sounded more like a boss ordering a subordinate than a mother calling her mum. I sat frozen with the remote still in my hand, the evening news not even turned on.
Kyle, hi. Whats up?
Nothing, all good, he snapped, a little too impatient. Kate and I grabbed a cheap flight, were off tomorrow morning.
Whos looking after Duke?
Duke that massive, slobbery mastiff that takes up more room in my tiny flat than the old sideboard ever did.
How long? I asked, already knowing the answer.
For a week, maybe two, if it works out. Mum, who else? We cant leave him at a dog hotel, thatd be cruelty. You know how fragile he is.
I glanced at my sofa, freshly reupholstered in a light fabric Id been saving for six months, skimping on little things. Duke would tear it to bits in a few days.
Kyle, Im not really comfortable. I just finished the renovations.
What renovations? Did you finally put up new wallpaper? he snapped, irritation clear. Dukes wellbehaved, just dont forget to walk him. Kates shouting, we need to pack. Well drop him off in an hour.
A couple of beeps later. He never even asked how I was, didnt wish me a happy birthday which was last week.
Id spent the whole day waiting for his call, made my signature salad, slipped into a new dress. The kids promised to swing by, but never showed. Kyle sent a quick text: Mum, happy birthday! Stuck at work. Emma didnt reply at all.
And today? Mum, I really need your help.
I sank slowly onto the sofa. It wasnt about the dog or the ruined upholstery. It was that humiliating feeling of being a freestanding emergency service, the last resort, a humanfunction.
I remembered dreaming, years ago, that my children would grow up and be independent. Now I see the worst fear isnt an empty flat; its the heartstopping wait for a call that only comes when they need something.
An hour later Kyle and Duke showed up at the door. Duke burst in, leaving muddy paw prints across the clean floor.
Mum, heres his food, his toys. Three walks a day, you remember? Weve gotta get going or well miss the flight! He tossed me the leash, gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and vanished.
I was left standing in the hallway, Duke sniffing the arm of the chair. From somewhere in the flat came the sound of fabric tearing. I glanced at my phone should I call Emma? Maybe shed understand? My finger hovered over the screen.
Emma hadnt called in a month. Shes got her own life, her own family. For the first time that day, I didnt feel the usual sting of offence. Something cooler, clearer settled in enough.
Morning started with Duke leaping onto the bed, leaving two dirty paw prints on the fresh duvet. My new sofa was already spotted in three places, and the ficus Id nurtured for five years lay on the floor, leaves nibbled.
I poured myself a shot of valerian from the bottle and dialled Kyle. He didnt pick up straight away. In the background I could hear the surf and Kates laughter.
Hey Mum, hows it going? All good, the sea is amazing!
Kyle, about the dog. Hes wrecking the flat, tearing the sofa I cant handle him.
What do you mean? Hes never chewed anything before. Maybe he just needs more freedom. We just arrived, we want to relax. Give him a longer walk, hell settle.
I walked him two hours this morning! He pulls the leash so hard I almost fell. Please, can you take him back? Find somewhere else to keep him.
A tense silence. Then his voice hardened.
Mum, are you serious? Were on the other side of the world. How am I supposed to bring him back? You agreed to this. Youre being selfish, Mum.
Enough, Kyle, enough. Kates brought the drinks, keep Duke busy, youll both get along. And the line clicked again.
My hands trembled as I sat at the kitchen table, feeling the helplessness like a physical weight. I decided to call Emma, hoping shed be more sensible.
Hi Emma.
Hey Mum, whats up? Im in a meeting.
Its urgent. Kyle left me his dog and flew off. Hes out of control, ripping furniture, Im scared hell bite me.
Emma sighed.
Kyle asked for help, so were stuck. Just buy a new sofa, hell sort it out later. Hell pay you back, probably.
Its not about the sofa! Its about being forced into this position!
And what? You should just look after the dog, its not a big deal. Ive got my own boss to deal with.
I hung up, the phone cold on the table. Family a word that now meant people who only remembered you when they needed something, then called you selfish if you couldnt instantly comply.
Later that evening the downstairs neighbour, Mrs. Patel, banged on my door, furious.
Nora! Your dog has been howling for three hours! My baby cant sleep! If you dont quiet him Ill call the police!
Duke barked approvingly behind me. I shut the door, looked at the wagging tail waiting for praise, then at the shredded sofa and my phone buzzing with a low, angry hum.
I grabbed the leash.
Come on, Duke, lets get some fresh air.
We walked through the park, the tension in my shoulders turning into a dull, aching pain. Duke lunged forward, almost yanking the leash from my weakened grip. Every tug echoed the harsh words of my children: selfish, you have all the time, its hard to help.
Out of nowhere, Zoe, a former colleague, appeared, bright scarf, stylish haircut, a grin.
Nora! I barely recognized you still juggling everything? Got a grandkid again? she laughed, pointing at Duke.
Its Kyles dog, I replied flatly.
Oh right! Zoe chuckled. Youre our goto rescue lady. Im off to Spain next week for a flamenco course, can you believe it? My husband was gobsmacked but said, Go on, youve earned it. When was the last time you did something just for you?
The question hung in the air. I couldnt recall. My idea of a break was always the cottage, the grandkids, helping the kids.
You look exhausted, Zoe said sincerely. You cant keep carrying everything yourself. Let the kids sort themselves out. Otherwise youll end up looking after their dogs while life rushes past. Ive got to run, rehearsal time!
She vanished, leaving a faint scent of expensive perfume.
The life rushes past hit me like a bomb. I stared at Duke, my hands gripping the leash, the grey houses looming. I realised I couldnt keep doing this. Not a single day, not a single hour.
Enough.
I grabbed my phone, fingers shaking, typed best dog hotel. The first link showed a glossy site: spacious runs, a pool, grooming salon, oneonone sessions with a trainer, prices that made my breath catch.
I dialled.
Good afternoon, Id like to book a kennel for a dog, two weeks, full board and spa.
I booked a black cab straight from the park. Duke behaved oddly calm, as if he sensed the change.
At the hotel, the air smelled of lavender and highend shampoos, not a single dog smell. A smiling receptionist handed me a contract.
I filled in the owners details Kyles name and number and the payers details, the same. I put down the deposit from the money Id been saving for a new coat. Best investment ever.
Well send daily photos to the owner, the lady said, taking the leash. Dont worry, hell love it here.
Back in my quiet, slightly wrecked flat, I finally felt peace, not loneliness. I poured tea, sank onto the surviving edge of the sofa and sent two identical messages. One to Kyle, one to Emma.
Dukes safe, hes at the hotel. Any questions, contact his owner.
I muted my phone.
Three minutes later it buzzed Kyle. I took a sip of tea, didnt answer. Another buzz, then a text from Emma: Mum, what does that mean? Call me ASAP!
I turned the TV volume up, knowing what was happening on the other end panic, outrage, trying to figure out why their everreliable mum had done this.
Two days later there was a relentless knock at the door. I opened it to find Kyle and Emma, suntanned and clearly angry. Their holiday was clearly ruined.
Are you mad, Mum? What hotel? Did you see the bill? Were being ripped off over a dog!
Good afternoon, kids, I said calmly, Come in, take off your shoes, Ive just mopped the floor.
My calm diffused the tension better than any shouting could. Kyle glanced at the torn sofa, the overturned flower pot.
This, he said, pointing at the sofa, whats this?
Its the damage Duke caused. Ive had a tradesperson assess it. Heres the quote for reupholstering and a new ficus. I handed him a neat printout.
Youre charging me for this too? he stammered. You should have looked after him!
Should I have? I asked, for the first time looking at my son with cold curiosity, not love.
I owe you nothing, Mum. Neither do you owe us. Emma tried to mediate.
Extreme actions are when a son accuses his mother of selfishness because she wont let the house turn into a ruin. Or when a daughter claims you have a mountain of free time to cater to her brother. Those are just the fallout of your choices, I said, gesturing at the bill.
Kyles face turned red. Im not paying a penny for this hotel either!
Fine, I replied, I wasnt counting on any money anyway. Ill sell the cottage.
The cottage wed all planned to use for barbecues, a sauna, a summer retreat. My own little sanctuary.
You cant! Emma shouted, forgetting diplomacy. Its ours too! We grew up there!
My documents are in my name, I shrugged. And childhood is over, dear.
The money from the hotel would cover the repairs, the moral damage, maybe even a ticket to Spain. Zoe had raved about it.
They stared at me as if I were a stranger. Not the meek, obedient mother theyd known, but a woman with a steel spine theyd never guessed existed.
A heavy silence settled, the kind that tells you youve won.
A week later Kyle transferred the exact amount to my account. No apologies, no more calls.
I fetched an almostnew suitcase from the attic, dialled Zoe.
Hi Zoe, its Nora. Do you still have a spot in that flamenco class?
