15May2025 Diary
At sixtyfive I finally saw the truth: the terror isnt being left alone, its begging my children to phone, knowing I feel like a burden.
Mum, hello, I need you urgently, my son shouted into the speaker. His tone sounded more like a demanding boss than a son calling his mother.
I, Margaret Hughes, froze with the remote in my hand, the evening news still paused.
Hey, Kyle, whats up? I asked.
Its fine, he replied impatiently. Emily and I have booked a lastminute flight; we leave tomorrow morning.
Wholl look after the dog?
The dogDuke, a massive, slobbery mastiff who occupies more floor space than the old sideboardwas a problem.
How long? I asked, already guessing.
For a week, maybe two, if it works out. Mum, who else? We cant put him in a kennel; it would be cruel. You know how delicate he is.
I glanced at my newly reupholstered sofa, the light fabric Id been saving for six months by cutting back on little luxuries. Duke would ruin it in a few days.
Kyle, Im not comfortable. I just finished the refurbishment.
What refurbishment? Did you redo the wallpaper? his irritation seeped through the line.
Duke is wellbehaved; just make sure you walk him before you go. Emilys packing now, well be at the airport in an hour.
A brief beep. He hadnt even asked how I was or wished me a belated birthdaymy sixtyfifth had slipped by unnoticed.
All day Id been waiting for his call, preparing my signature salad, putting on a new dress. The kids promised to visit but never came.
Kyle sent a short text: Ma, happy birthday! Stuck at work. Emily didnt reply.
And todayUrgent help needed.
I sank slowly onto the sofa. The issue wasnt the dog or the torn upholstery. It was the humiliating awareness of my role: a freestanding caretaker, an emergency service, the last resort.
I remembered dreaming, years ago when the children were small, that theyd grow up independent. Now I understood that the worst fear isnt an empty flat; its the heartstopping pause while waiting for a call that only comes when they need something from me.
The anxiety of pleading for their attention, sacrificing my comfort and selfrespect, was crushing.
An hour later there was a knock. Kyle stood at the door, lead in hand, Duke bounding in, leaving muddy paw prints on the pristine floor.
Heres his food and toys, Mum. Remember three walks a day. Were off, or well miss our flight! He thrust the leash at me, gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and vanished.
I was left in the hallway, Duke sniffing the chair legs.
From the back of the flat came the sound of fabric tearing. I stared at my phone, thumb hovering over my daughters contact.
Olivia hadnt called in a monthprobably busy with her own life, her own family.
For the first time the usual sting of resentment didnt surface. Instead a cold, clear, firm realisation washed over me: enough.
Morning broke with Duke, in a sudden burst of affection, leaping onto the bed and leaving two dirty paw prints on the crisp duvet. The new sofa was already mangled in three places, and my beloved ficusgrown for five yearslay on the floor, its leaves gnawed.
I poured myself a glass of valerian tonic, dialed my son. He took ages to answer. In the background I could hear the surf and Kats laugh from the seaside resort they were staying at.
Mate, about the doghes wrecking the place. The sofas gone, I cant manage him.
What do you mean? Hes never chewed anything before. Maybe youre being too harsh? He needs space. We just arrived, we want to relax. Just give him a longer walk, hell settle.
I walked him two hours this morning! He drags the leash so hard I almost fell. Please, take him back or find another caretaker.
Silence. Then Kyles voice hardened.
Seriously? Were half a world away. How am I supposed to bring him back? You agreed to this. Is this selfishness, Mum?
The word hit like a slap. All my life Id lived for themnow Im the selfish one?
Stop it, Kyle. Im not being capricious
Enough, Mum. Emilys brought the cocktails. Keep Duke busy. Im sure youll get on. He hung up.
The phones ring echoed again. My hands trembled as I sat at the kitchen table, the wreckage around me. I decided to call Olivia, hoping shed be more sensible.
Oi, Ol, I said.
Hey, Mum. Emergency?
Kyle left his dog with me and flew off. Hes out of control, Im scared hell bite me.
She sighed. He asked for help, so youre obliged. Buy a new sofa, hell sort it out later. Hell reimburse you, right?
Its not about the sofa! I snapped. Its the way he dumped his responsibility on me!
Dont be dramatic. Youre retired, youve got time. Look after the dog, its nothing. Everyones got a boss at work.
The call ended.
Familyan odd term. In my case it meant people who remember me only when they need something, then brand me selfish if I cant instantly comply.
Later that evening the downstairs neighbour, Mrs. Clarke, burst in, angry as a storm.
Margaret! Your dog has been howling for three hours! My baby cant sleep! If you dont quiet him Ill call the police!
Duke barked in agreement, confirming her claim.
I shut the door, looked at him wagging his tail for praise, then at the torn sofa and the phone buzzing with irritation.
I grabbed the leash.
Come on, Duke, lets have a walk.
The parks path seemed to ease the tension in my shoulders, turning it into a dull, throbbing ache. Duke lunged forward, nearly yanking the leash from my slackened grip. Each tug echoed the words of my children: selfishness, plenty of time, hard to help.
On the same path appeared Zoe, my former colleague, in a bright scarf and a jaunty haircut.
Margaret! I barely recognised youstill fussing over grandkids? Is it another dog? she laughed, gesturing at Duke.
Its Kyles dog, I replied, flatly.
Ah, right! Youre always the familys emergency backup. Im off to Spain next week for a flamenco coursemy husband finally gave his blessing. When was the last time you took a proper break?
The question hung in the air. Breaks for me had always meant tending the garden, the grandchildren, helping the kids.
You look exhausted, Zoe said gently. You cant keep bearing all this. Let the kids sort themselves out. Otherwise youll end up looking after their pets forever while life drifts by. Ive got to run, rehearsal in an hour!
Her words struck a chord. I realised Id been living in a perpetual state of caretaking.
The next day I searched online for best dog hotel in London. The first result showed a glossy site with spacious runs, a pool, grooming salon, and private sessions with a canine trainer, all priced steeply.
I called.
Good afternoon, Id like to book a twoweek stay for a dog, full board and spa.
A taxi arrived while Duke sat unusually calm, sensing the change. At the hotel the air smelled of lavender and premium shampoos rather than dog breath. A smiling receptionist handed me a contract.
I filled in Owner with Kyles name and number, and Payer with the same details. I put down a deposit from the money Id been saving for a new coat. It felt like the best investment of my life.
Well send daily photos to the owner, the receptionist said warmly, taking the leash.
Back in my stillstanding but battered flat I finally felt calm instead of lonely. I brewed a cup of tea, settled on the edge of the remaining sofa, and sent two identical messagesone to Kyle, one to Olivia.
Duke is safe at the hotel. All queries, please contact the owner.
I switched off my phones ringer.
Three minutes later it buzzed with Kyles name. I took a sip of tea and didnt answer. A minute later another buzz, then a message from Olivia: Mum, what does that mean? Call me back urgently!
I turned up the TV volume, aware of the looming storm on the other end of the line.
Two days later there was a firm knock at the door. Kyle and Olivia stood there, suntanned but clearly annoyed, their holiday ruined.
Are you out of your mind, Mum? What hotel? Look at this billdid you think you could bankrupt us over a dog?
I welcomed them calmly. Come in, please take off your shoes, Ive just mopped the floor.
My composure surprised them more than any argument could. Kyle surveyed the shredded sofa, the overturned plant pot.
This is what your wellbehaved dog has done, he said, tapping the invoice for upholstery and a new ficus.
I handed him the printed sheet.
Youre charging me too? he hissed. You should have looked after him!
Should I have? I asked, the first time in years I looked at my son with cool curiosity rather than affection.
I owe you nothing, just as you owe us nothing.
Olivia tried to mediate. Mum, why all this drama? Were familywe could sort this out.
Kyle snapped, Extremes are when a son calls his mother selfish because she wont let her house become a wreck, and a daughter says you have a heap of time to serve her brother. He gestured at the bill. Thats just the fallout of your decisions.
He turned red with anger. Im not paying a penny for this hotel either!
I simply replied, Fine. I wasnt surprised.
Im selling the cottage, I added.
The cottage had been their planned retreatbarbecues, a sauna, summer holidays.
You cant! Olivia shouted, forgetting peace. Its ours too! We grew up there!
My name is on the deeds, I shrugged. Your childhood ended long ago.
The money from the hotel covered the damages, the moral loss, and maybe a ticket to SpainZoe had spoken highly of it.
They looked at me as if I were a stranger, not the dutiful, meek mum theyd known. I was a woman of steel, unafraid of their anger or manipulation.
Silence fell heavy in the room, a stark awareness that they had lost.
Within a week Kyle transferred the full sum to my accountno apologies, no more calls.
I didnt wait for them. I pulled an almostnew suitcase from the attic, dialed Zoe.
Hey, love, still got a spot for the flamenco class?
