“What on earth, Mum? A story about adopting a dog?”
“Mum, what have you done?” Emilys voice crackled down the line. “A rescue dog, for goodness sake? And an old, sick one at that! Have you lost it? Couldnt you just take up ballroom dancing instead?”
Margaret Whitmore stood at the window, watching snowflakes whirl and settle on rooftops and tree branches. It had become a habit lately. Once, shed waited up for her husband, coming home late, exhausted, his voice rough. The kitchen would be softly lit, dinner on the table, their conversations shared over a cup of tea
Slowly, the topics ran dry. He returned even later, avoiding her gaze, his replies clipped. Then one day
“Margaret, Ive got to tell you Ive met someone else. Were in love, and I want a divorce.”
“What? Divorce and what about me? What happens to me?” A sharp pain flared under Margarets shoulder blade.
“Margaret, were adults. The kids are grown, living their own lives. Weve been together nearly thirty years. But were still young. Look at usjust past fifty! I want something new, something fresh.”
“So Im the past? Obsolete?” she murmured, numb.
“Dont exaggerate. Youre not old But understandI feel like Im thirty again. Forgive me. I just want to be happy.” He kissed the top of her head and disappeared into the shower, washing away the memories of their marriage while Margaret carried the weight of a worlds worth of sadness.
Betrayal. What could be more bitter?
Time slipped by unnoticedthe divorce, her husband off to his new life. Margaret settled into a grey routine. Shed lived for her children, for him. Their struggles had been hers, their joys her triumphs. And now?
She spent hours at the window. Sometimes, she pulled out the small hand mirror her grandmother had left her. A sad gaze stared back, a stray tear caught among new wrinkles, a few silver threads at her temples. She was afraid to look in the full-length mirror.
“Mum, you ought to find a hobby,” her daughter said briskly, clearly in a hurry.
“What, darling?” Margarets voice was faint, dissolving down the phone line.
“I dunno. Reading, dancing, one of those ‘over-fifties’ classes. Gallery visits.”
“Yes, yes, ‘over-fifties’ Me, Im already ‘over'” Margaret trailed off.
“Oh, Mum, sorry, Ive got to dash.”
Oddly, her son James understood better. “Mum, Im really sorry about everything. Lucy and Id like to visitmaybe at New Years? Itll do you good.”
Margaret adored her children but saw how different they were.
*****
One evening, scrolling social media, she spotted an ad:
“Open Day at the Dogs Trust! Bring family and friendsour rescues cant wait to meet you! Find us at”
It mentioned donations: blankets, old towels, bedding
Margaret read it again. “Blankets, throws, old linens, towels Ive got piles to sort. Plenty to give,” she murmured into the night.
Staring out the window, she calculated what else she could afford.
Ten days later, she stood at the shelter door, arms full of bags. The cabbie helped unload thembundled rugs, stacks of towels. Volunteers bustled about, guiding visitors inside, sorting donations. Later, groups toured the kennels, hearing each dogs story
Margaret went home exhausted, legs aching. “Rightshower, dinner, sofa. Ill process this later.”
But ‘later’ never came. The images spun in her headpeople, cages, dogs. And their eyes. Eyes just like those in her little mirror: full of sorrow, wary of happiness.
One dog stood outa grey-muzzled, quiet old girl huddled in a corner.
“This is Lady. Shes a Japanese Chin. Her owner surrendered her at twelvevery old for her breed. With care, they can live to fifteen, but Ladys ill and depressed. No one wants her,” the volunteer sighed before moving on.
Margaret lingered. Lady didnt stir, lying on a ragged blanket like a discarded toy.
All week at work, Margaret thought of her. Suddenly, fresh energy surged through her.
“Ladys my reflection. Im not that old. But Im alone. The kids are gone, my husband tossed me aside like a doormat. But Im no doormatno!”
Determined, she called the shelter.
“Hello! I visited your Open Day. You told me about Ladythe elderly Chin? Remember?”
“Of course! Youre the only one who stopped by her pen.”
“May I see her?”
“Lady? Amazing! Come this weekend.”
That evening, Margaret stood at the windownot mourning the past, but watching a man in the yard play with a big dog. The dog raced in circles, tirelessly fetching a ball, his owner stroking his head with affection.
The weekend came.
“Hello, Lady.” Margaret crouched, but the dog didnt move. She sat on the floor in old jeans and began to talkabout her life, her children, the empty house.
An hour passed. Gently, she reached out, stroking Ladys head. The dog sighed, leaning into her hand. A bond formed.
Leaving, Margaret met watchful brown eyes. Ladys gaze seemed to ask: was this a one-time meeting, or?
“Wait for me. Ill be back,” she whispered, closing the pen.
“So, howd it go?” the volunteer smiled.
“IId like to adopt her.” Margarets voice trembled.
“Just like that?”
“Yes. You said dogs like her rarely get chances. Ill give her one.”
“Margaret, I must warn youLadys sick. Shell need care, time, money.”
“I raised two kids. I can manage. Lets try.”
Papers signed, hours later, Margaret carried Lady home, swaddled in a towel. She set her down gently.
“Here we are, Lady. Your new home. Well figure it out together.”
She took time offvet visits, exams, nail trims, tooth extractions. Lady was well-behaved. Margaret laid out pee pads for accidents. They walked early and late, avoiding neighbours until Lady felt safe.
*****
“Mum, whatve you done? Are you ill?” Emily nearly shouted.
“Perfectly healthy. Thanks for asking.”
“Mum, a rescue dog? And an old, sick one? Are you mad? Why not take up Zumba?”
“Darling, Im young. Fifty-three, fit, attractive, independent. Didnt I raise you better?”
“But Mum”
“No ‘buts.’ Youve your life, James is abroad, and your father left me for a woman half his age. Respect my choices.”
She hung up, sighed, and headed for the kettle.
“Mum, youre incredible! Never thought youd do this! But can you handle it?” James asked, stunned.
“James, I raised you and Emily. Ill manage. The shelterll help if needed.”
She didnt mention the man shed met on their late walksDavid, divorced, his wife remarried abroad. Hed adopted too
And where from?
Exactly. Davids Max was a rescuea purebred found wandering, unclaimed despite his microchip.
David and Max adjusted to their new normal.
*****
“Mum, can Lucy and I visit? I want you to meet her properly. Shes as mad as you!”
Margaret laughed. “Come anytime. Well be waiting.”
On New Years Eve, when the doorbell rang, two dogs pricked their earsDavid and Max had joined Margaret and Lady.
James, taking in the cheerful scene, grinned.
“Mum, no point waitingheres Lucy. I love her, and soon youll be a grandma. Also were adopting a rescue. Maybe a small one, with the baby coming”
That night, no window held sadnessmusic, laughter, fireworks filled the city, the world. Even back at the shelter, the waiting dogs and cats seemed to feel the joy.
Be happy, everyone.
And to you, dear friendscheers! May my dear Lady (and Max!) bring you as much joy. Heres to love, second chances, and wagging tails!
