At sixty-five, she realized the worst fear wasnt being aloneit was begging her children to call, knowing she was nothing but a burden to them.
“Hi, Mum. I need your helpurgently.”
Her sons voice on the other end dripped with the impatience of a boss addressing an inconvenient employee, not a son speaking to his mother.
Margaret froze, the TV remote still clutched in her hand, the evening news forgotten.
“James, hello. Whats happened?”
“Nothings happened,” he exhaled sharply. “Its justEmma and I booked a last-minute holiday. Flights tomorrow morning.”
A pause. Then, the inevitable.
“Weve got no one to look after Duke. Can you take him?”
Duke. A slobbering, massive Great Dane whod take up more space in her tiny two-bed flat than her antique sideboard.
“For how long?” she asked carefully, already knowing the answer.
“A week. Maybe two. Depends how it goes. Mum, come onwho else can we ask? You know how sensitive he is. A kennel would be cruel.”
Margarets gaze drifted to her brand-new sofa, its cream upholstery pristine. Shed saved for months, denying herself little luxuries to afford it. Duke would ruin it in days.
“James, IIve just had the place redone. Its not really convenient.”
“Redone?” His voice sharpened with irritation. “You mean you put up new wallpaper?”
Dukes well-trained, Mum. Just dont forget his walks. Look, Emmas callingwe need to pack. Well drop him off in an hour.
The line went dead.
He hadnt even asked how she was. Hadnt wished her a happy birthday last week. Sixty-five.
Shed waited all day for that call. Made her special potato salad. Wore the new dress. The kids had promised to visit. Never showed.
James sent a text: *”Happy birthday, Mum. Swamped at work.”* Lily hadnt even bothered.
And today? *”Urgently need your help.”*
Margaret sank onto the sofa. It wasnt about the dog or the ruined upholstery.
It was the humiliation of being reduced to a functiona free pet-sitter, an emergency service, a last resort. A *human convenience*.
She remembered, years ago, praying her children would grow up independent.
Now she understood something worse than loneliness: the crushing dread of waiting for a call, knowing youre only needed when they want something. Begging for their attention at the cost of your own dignity.
An hour later, the doorbell rang. James stood there, Dukes lead in hand. The dog barreled inside, leaving muddy paw prints on the freshly cleaned floor.
“Mum, heres his food, his toys. Three walks a dayremember? Gotta run, or well miss the flight!” He shoved the leash into her hands, pecked her cheek, and vanished.
Margaret stood in the hallway, motionless. Duke was already sniffing the chair legs.
From the living room came the sound of tearing fabric.
She glanced at her phone. Should she call Lily? Maybe her daughter would understand. But her finger hovered.
Lily hadnt called in a month. Busy, probably. Her own life, her own family.
For the first time, Margaret didnt feel the usual sting of resentment. Instead, something colder, clearer.
*Enough.*
Morning arrived with Dukes enthusiastic leap onto her bed, leaving two grimy paw prints the size of saucers on her white duvet.
The new sofa was already scratched in three places. Her prized fern, nurtured for five years, lay uprooted, its leaves chewed.
Margaret took a swig of her valerian drops and dialed James.
He answered on the fourth ring.
Sea waves and Emmas laughter filled the background.
“Mum, whats up? Everythings brilliant here!”
“James, about the dog. Hes destroying the flat. The sofas ruined. I cant handle him.”
“What dyou mean?” Genuine confusion. “Hes never scratched anything before. Are you locking him up? He needs space. Mum, dont start, alright? We just got here. Just walk him morehell calm down.”
“I walked him two hours this morning! He nearly yanked my arm off. James, pleasetake him back. Find someone else.”
A pause. Then his voice hardened.
“Are you serious? Were on the other side of the world! You agreed to this. What, you want us to drop everything and fly back because youre being difficult? Thats selfish, Mum.”
*Selfish.* The word hit like a slap. She, who had lived for them her whole life*selfish.*
“Im not being difficult, I”
“Emmas got the cocktails. Just entertain Duke. Youll bond. Love you.”
The line died.
Her hands shook. She sat at the kitchen table, away from the wreckage. The helplessness was a physical weight.
She called Lily. Her daughter had always been the sensible one.
“Lily, hi.”
“Hi, Mum. Is this urgent? Im in a meeting.”
“Yes, urgent. James left his dog with me. Hes uncontrollable. Destroying everything. I think he might bite me soon.”
Lily sighed.
“Mum, James asked. There mustve been a reason. Cant you just help your own son? Were family. So the sofas ruinedbuy a new one. James will pay you back. Probably.”
“Lily, its not about the sofa! Its how he *treats* me! He just dumped this on me!”
“How else was he supposed to do it? Beg on his knees? Mum, stop. Youre retiredyouve got all the time in the world. Just look after the dog. Whats the big deal? Boss is glaringgotta go.”
Silence.
Margaret set the phone down.
*Family.* What a strange word.
For her, it meant a group of people who remembered you only when they needed somethingand called you *selfish* if you couldnt comply.
That evening, Mrs. Thompson from downstairs banged on her door, furious.
“Margaret! That dogs been howling for three hours! My baby cant sleep! If you dont shut him up, Im calling the police!”
Duke, standing behind her, wagged his tail and barked cheerfully.
Margaret closed the door. She looked at the dog, at the shredded sofa, at her phone.
Something inside hersomething long suppressedstirred.
Shed always tried to be reasonable. To explain, to compromise.
But her feelings, her logic, her wordsnone of it mattered. They bounced off a wall of indifference.
She grabbed the lead.
“Come on, Duke. Walk time.”
She led him through the park, tension coiling in her shoulders. Duke strained forward, nearly wrenching the leash from her grip.
Every tug echoed her childrens words: *Selfish. All the time in the world. Cant you just help?*
A familiar voice called out.
“Margaret! Goodness, I almost didnt recognize you!”
It was Susan, a former colleague. Bright scarf, stylish haircut, effortless smile.
“Hello, Susan.”
“Look at youall tied up! Babysitting the grandkids again?” She nodded at Duke.
“My sons dog,” Margaret said flatly.
“Ah!” Susan laughed. “Youre always the fixer, arent you? Im off to Spain next weekflamenco lessons! Can you imagine? The girls from my class are all going. Gary grumbled at first, but then he said, ‘Go on, youve earned it.’ Whens the last time *you* had a proper holiday?”
The question hung in the air. Margaret couldnt remember.
“You look exhausted,” Susan said gently. “You cant keep carrying everyone. The kids are grownlet them sort their own messes. Otherwise, youll be stuck looking after their dogs while life passes you by. Anyway, must dashrehearsal!”
She floated off, leaving behind a trail of expensive perfume.
*Life passes you by.*
The words detonated something inside her. Margaret stopped dead. Duke glanced up, puzzled.
She looked at the dog, at her hands gripping the leash, at the grey buildings around her.
And realizedshe couldnt do it. Not for another day.
*Enough.*
She pulled out her phone. Typed with trembling fingers: *Best luxury dog hotel.*
The first link showed glossy photos: spacious kennels, a pool, grooming salons, private training. Prices that made her stomach drop.
She dialed the number.
“Hello. Id like to book a stay. Yes, for a Great Dane. Two weeks. Full board and spa treatments, please.”
