After the Breakup, She Refused His Apology

I love dog, but before we got married, my husband claimed he hated dogs, so I never bothered getting one. Later, he brought home a stray mutt. He gave it baths, treated its wound, feed it with best food. He treated the dog like it was his own flesh and blood, better than he treated our son. I thought he was all bark and no bite, but turns out he's a softie after all. He grumbled a lot but genuine.

Everything changed the day my son tragically died from rabies after getting bitten by his beloved dog. It hit hard and wasn’t the worst part. His ex-girlfriend, his first love, posted a photo on Instagram of them celebrating the dog's birthday, captioned, 'Our boy's five now.'

I had just come to the realization that this dog was a product his past love with his ex-girlfriend. Instead of immediately calling him, I took a deep breath and decided to handle things calmly. I filled a pot with water and set it on the stove to boil, trying to keep my emotions in check.

With a steady hand, I composed a message to my husband, [Where are you taking Rex? Don't give him away to the shelter. Bring him back. I miss him.]

——

After sending the message, I wiped away the tears that had started to well up in my eyes. Trying to distract myself, I turned up the gas flame and focused on the sound of the water heating up. But despite my efforts to stay composed, memories of our son, his screaming echoing through the house as he crawled around in agony, flooded my mind. It was hard not to feel overwhelmed by grief and panic I felt in that moment.

Just as I was lost in these thoughts, the ringing of the phone snapped me back to reality. After texting back and forth, my husband finally called.

“Have you calmed down? Weren't you so angry at him that you wanted to kill him?” Dale said accusingly.

His blame was understandable. Just two days ago, our son was complaining about an itchy scar on his calf. At first, I thought he had scratched himself accidentally, but as time went on, it became clear that our dog was the cause. He had bitten Liam and it had been a few days. Confused and worried, I asked him why he hadn't told me sooner. My son said his dad wouldn't let him tell me because he was afraid I would get angry. I was so angry at that moment that I kicked at the dog.

Dale, furious and sorry for the dog, scolded our son, pointing his finger at him, “I told you not to tell your mom, you snitch!”

He impatiently pushed me aside, speaking harshly, “Aren’t you overreacting? It's just a bite. Who hasn't been bitten by a dog before? I just can't believe that you, a mother, would be so cruel and heartless to kick a defenseless dog.”

Disregarding his protests, I swiftly gathered all the supplies he had purchased for the dog and hurled them into the hallway. With a firm tone, I cautioned him that unless he get rid of the dog from our home, I might just end up hitting it again. And I meant it.

That day, Dale left angrily holding the dog and didn't come home for three days. I took my son to the hospital and the doctor said it might be too late for the vaccine to be effective. Despite this, I insisted and the doctor reluctantly administered the shot. I wasn’t ready about the swift deterioration.

The next day, he become afraid of light and water, crawling around, writhing in spasms and cried of agony. I went crazy, rushing him back to the hospital and after a night of turmoil, he was gone. He was my beloved son, the baby conceived over ten months, never thought he would met the end like a dog.

With trembling hands I reached for my phone and dialed my husband's number. But just moments before, I had stumbled upon Eileen's status on WhatsApp. In the photo, they were smiling blissfully, celebrating the damned dog's birthday with the caption: 'Our boy is five years old now.'

The irony couldn't have been more brutal. The very day my son left this world happened to coincide with the birthday of that accursed dog. It was a devastating revelation, and in an instant, my entire world shattered into pieces.

Dale had been lying to me all along. It wasn't that he didn't love dogs—he simply didn't want to raise one with me. And to make matters worse, this dog wasn't just some stray, it was the boy he and his ex-girlfriend Eileen had raised together.

I gritted my teeth, trying to keep my tone calm and said, “Yes, I shouldn't have hit him that day. Bring him back.”

I knew Dale was chatting with Eileen, so I stealthily turned up the volume, trying to eavesdrop on their conversation. Dale was negotiating with Eileen, saying, “You're rarely home to take him for walks, anyway. I'll bring him back.”

“But she hates Rex. What if you take him back and she kicked him again? You don't actually believe she's gonna treat him as well as she used to, do you? Or you just don’t care about Rex and me anymore?” Eileen pouted.

“If course not, it’s just-”

“Look at him, Dale! Rex has been hiding for the past two days. He barks at me every time I try to touch him. She traumatized him.” Eileen argued so strongly that they both fell silent.

“You're not taking Rex anywhere unless she writes on a pledge.”