I chose to adopt the shelter’s oldest dog, knowing she had just a month left to live, and I was committed to making her last days the happiest she could have.
When I brought home Maggie, a fragile senior dog from the shelter, I never expected it would cost me my marriage. Greg and I had struggled for years with infertility and growing distance. I hoped Maggie could fill the silence between us, but Greg saw her as a lost cause—and me as obsessed. He gave me an ultimatum: the dog or him. I chose Maggie.
The early days were tough—Maggie was weak, and my marriage unraveled. When Greg left, I was broken, but Maggie stayed by my side, slowly healing alongside me. Her first soft bark and wagging tail brought back my smile.
Six months later, I ran into Greg, who mocked my choices and revealed their marriage had ended long before Maggie came along—he just needed an excuse to leave. Then Mark appeared, calm and supportive, holding Maggie’s leash and my coffee. Maggie was thriving, and so was I.
Greg stormed off, defeated. Mark and I headed to the park, where he later surprised me with a proposal—Maggie happily wagging beside us, as if she knew this was just the beginning of a new chapter.
