03/26/2025
I ADOPTED THE OLDEST SHELTER DOG WITH ONLY A MONTH TO LIVE – MY HUSBAND GAVE ME AN ULTIMATUM, "ME OR THE DOG"
After finding out Greg and I couldn’t have kids, the silence in our marriage just felt louder. One day, I suggested getting a dog. “Something to love,” I said. Greg wasn’t thrilled but agreed, as long as it wasn’t “some yappy little thing.”
At the shelter, I saw her—Maggie. A frail, gray-faced senior dog curled up in the back. Her tag said, 12 years old. Hospice adoption only. She looked so tired, so defeated. But when I knelt down, her tail wagged, just barely. I knew she was the one.
Greg thought I’d lost my mind. “That dog’s halfway to the grave,” he said. Then came the ultimatum: “If you bring her home, I’m leaving.”
He was gone by the time I brought Maggie home. She hobbled into the house, looked up at me, and wagged her tail a little stronger this time. I whispered, “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”
Six months later, I was walking out of a bookstore with a coffee in hand when I bumped into Greg.
He smirked as if he’d been waiting for this moment. “Well, well, Clara. Still all alone? Let me guess—your precious dog didn’t last long. Was it worth throwing your life away?”
Before I could respond, a young, beautiful woman strolled up and looped her arm through his.
“Oh,” Greg said, glancing at her, then back at me. “Figured it out yet? Yeah, I wasn’t exactly devastated when you picked the dog that day. It made leaving so much easier.”
I froze, his words hitting like a slap. “You were already cheating,” I whispered.
But suddenly, Greg's smug expression shifted—his smirk faltered, his face twisting into shock and anger. His eyes locked on something behind me.
“I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS!” he screamed. ⬇️
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