My husband told me he was divorcing me for my pregnant younger sister — then tried to take the animal shelter I built and turn it into their family home. He thought I would quietly sign the papers, but he was wrong! By morning, I had a plan to teach them a lesson they’d never forget.
I used to think my life would be loud. I pictured hallways cluttered with toys, and imagined sticky hands tugging at my skirt while a small, high-pitched voice called me “Mom.”
That was the dream I carried for years when Karl and I were first married. Then a doctor told us, “I’m sorry, but it’s very unlikely that you’ll be able to conceive naturally.”
I felt the oxygen leave the room.
I turned to Karl, reaching for his hand, but he didn’t move. On the drive home, Karl turned up the radio while I cried. The shelter started with one dog.
I found her near the highway, a skinny brown mutt with mange. I didn’t think; I just took off my cardigan, wrapped her in it, and lifted her into my car. When I got home, Karl looked at the bundle in my arms like I was carrying a bucket of toxic waste.
“She’s sick, and I’m going to help her.”
“We are not turning this house into a kennel, Simona.” He scowled at the dog. “She’ll stay in the garage,” I insisted. “Just until she’s better.”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Simona, this isn’t healthy.”
“This.” He pointed a finger at the dog and then at me. “You can’t replace a child with strays. It’s a bit pathetic, don’t you think?”
“I’m not replacing anything,” I said.
But as I looked down at that little dog, I wondered if he was right. Maybe I was trying to fill a hole shaped like a person with things that barked and shed. Does it matter, though?
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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