They Killed My Dog to Keep Me Barefoot and Pregnant

1: 1

Two weeks away on a business trip, and when I came home, my dog Buddy was gone.

My boyfriend and his mother swore up and down that the dog had run off.

I was frantic, asking around in the residents' group chat.

A neighbor wrote back:

Didn't your dog die?

In heat like this, you don't turn the AC on for the dog, fine, but you shut it out on the balcony? No wonder it died in the heat.

I stared at the screen, not trusting my own eyes.

Two months ago, Boris Matthews's mother had moved in with us.

Ever since, she'd had her hands in everything.

Said we threw money around, didn't know how to run a household.

Wouldn't let us run the AC all night, so we wouldn't "waste electricity."

Before the trip, I'd watched the weather climb hotter and hotter.

I'd even pulled Boris aside and told him Buddy couldn't take the heat, that he had to keep the dog in the air-conditioned room.

And now Buddy had been left to die in the heat, at their hands.

I wiped my eyes dry.

And canceled the wedding on the spot.

I added the neighbor and asked him to tell me what happened.

He sent me a voice message right away.

He said a few days ago it had been very hot.

My dog wouldn't stop barking, and the neighbors on either side had all complained.

He lived in the unit above us and could clearly hear the barking coming from the balcony.

"In heat like that, the dog's shut out on the balcony baking in the sun. How could it not bark?"

A few days later, the barking stopped.

Then, in the elevator, he saw someone coming out of our place carrying a big cardboard box.

He asked:

"Did the dog die of the heat? Where are you taking that?"

They didn't answer him.

"That man, twenties or thirties, that's your husband, right? And there was a woman, fifties or so."

"I mean, if you don't want a dog, fine, but you took one in, so why leave it to bake to death? That was a living thing too!"

His voice was harsh, and it left my heart shaking.

Boris's mother came out of the kitchen carrying a dish and set it down on the table with a clatter.

"Off on a business trip for half a month, and now that you're back you can't be bothered to do a lick of housework, just glued to that phone."

"What kind of woman keeps a home like that?"

At that, Boris walked over, brows drawn together.

"Put the phone down and go wash your hands, dinner's ready."

I didn't move. I looked up.

"Boris, I'll ask you one more time. Where's Buddy?"

He froze.

Carla Matthews was just coming out with the bowls, and when she heard me she set them down hard.

Folded her arms.

"Buddy this, Buddy that. You come home and all you care about is the dog. My son, a grown man standing right here, and I haven't heard you say one kind word to him."

Boris came to pull me by the arm, impatience barely held in check.

"Teresa Swanson, I already told you Buddy ran off, didn't I?"

"My mom worked all afternoon on this dinner, so stop with all the questions and go wash your hands and eat."

I lowered my head and tapped the voice message on my phone.

When it reached the neighbor's words:

"Why leave it to bake to death? That was a living thing too,"

Boris's face went white.

2: 2

After a long silence, he said,

"The dog really did die. My mom and I hid it from you because we didn't want you to be hurt."

Over at the table, Carla clattered the bowls and chopsticks around.

I heard her mutter,

"Never seen anyone treat a dog like it's a treasure. Special food, air conditioning. What a waste."

My nails dug into my palms without my noticing.

Boris lost his father in his early teens, raised by his mother alone.

Before we got together, everyone around me warned me.

They said a boy raised by a widowed mother tended to turn into a mama's boy.

But after I'd known Boris a while, I found him careful and considerate.

He had qualities a lot of men his age didn't.

He'd said,

"I grew up watching how hard it was for my mom. I know what women go through."

Later, we got together.

Before long we were talking about marriage, and his mother came from back home in the Midwest, saying she'd help us prepare for the wedding.

The moment his mother arrived, Boris seemed like a different person.

He took her side in everything, treated her word as law.

The old attentiveness was gone, and now he wanted me to give in to his mother at every turn.

We had more than a few little fights over it.

When Carla moved in, we gave her five thousand a month for expenses.

But dinner every night was plain vegetables.

And not even fresh ones.

One time, looking at what sat in the kitchen like scraps someone had picked up off the ground, I couldn't hold it in:

"Carla, you shouldn't eat food that isn't fresh. It's bad for you."

Her face fell, and she said I didn't know a good thing when I saw it.

"Aren't I making all these vegetables because I worry the two of you eat greasy food outside all day and it's bad for your health?"

"I work hard buying groceries and cooking every day, don't get so much as a thank-you, and get looked down on for it."

Beside me, Boris was pleading with his eyes for me to stop.

So I said nothing more.

Until one day, I got off work earlier than usual.

I opened the door to find Boris sitting at the table.

In front of him was a spread of fresh meat and fruit.

And it hit me: his mother had been using my late nights and overtime.

Cooking special meals for her son.

That day, I lost my temper with Boris.

He coaxed and coaxed, poured out every nice thing he could say.

I was still angry, and with red-rimmed eyes he pulled me aside:

"Teresa, my mom raised me all by herself. She's terrified I won't get enough to eat or stay warm enough."

"These dishes she makes, they're just for me. She eats the same things you do."

"She just wants to save money for when we're married. Don't blame her. If you have to blame someone, blame me. Punish me however you want."

Looking at his eyes, so red they seemed about to bleed, I softened after all.

From that day on, I finally got a normal dinner.

But soon the weather turned hot.

Carla saw me running the AC and couldn't stand it, wanted me to turn it off and use the fan.

"It's not even that hot. Running the AC every day, think how expensive the electric bill gets."

She shot me a look.

"Really, you don't know the price of things until you're the one keeping house."

I was so angry I stood up, and Boris grabbed hold of me again.

He leaned in to my ear and murmured,

"That's just how my mom is. She only uses the fan herself, every day."

"Let's just agree with her for now. At night we close the door and turn the AC on, that's all."

Thinking of the three years we'd been together, I swallowed it down again.

But Carla never could stand the sight of me.

One way or another, she'd say I only cared about work and not about home.

"What kind of wife acts like this? Back in my day, a woman like that would've been kicked out by her husband long ago."

She said it enough times that I couldn't take it anymore.

I pushed back once, said I earned more than Boris, so of course I was busy with work.

Carla acted like she'd heard a joke.

"You earn more than our Boris? What a joke."

Beside us, Boris, who'd always smoothed things over between us,

this time said nothing at all, his face dark.

That night, he set his jaw.

"My mom has always been proud of me. What did you mean, telling her in front of her that you earn more than me?"

I got angry too.

I argued with him, said how his mother had been belittling me the whole time.

"It's a fact that I earn more than you. Even the wedding house is one I bought. Why should your mother keep putting me down?"

Boris's face went red with anger.

That night, we slept back to back.

The next morning I got up to leave for my business trip, and I thought of Buddy.

Still holding in my anger, I told Boris what needed doing.

That no matter what, he had to take good care of Buddy.

That he absolutely could not let his mother skip the AC for Buddy just to save a little on electricity.

He gave a grunt of "Mm" through his nose.

I looked up at Boris.

The fire inside me felt like it would burn its way out.

"Afraid I'd be hurt? You knew Buddy was like family to me, and you let him die in the heat."

"Not only did you not turn the AC on for him, you shut him out on the balcony. Did you do it on purpose? Did you mean to kill him?"

Boris probably hadn't expected me to know the truth about how Buddy died.

He flinched hard.

3: 3

The next moment, Boris's mother came flying at me like a hen whose nest had been raided, planting herself in front of Boris.

She jabbed a finger at my face.

"What are you shouting for? I've never said a harsh word to my son his whole life, so who do you think you are, yelling at him?"

The whole scene was so absurd that not just me, even Boris froze.

A few seconds later, he swallowed and gently pushed his mother aside.

"Mom, it's fine. Teresa." He said my name, but he didn't dare look at me.

"We never thought Buddy would die from the heat either. Why would we ever hurt him on purpose..."

I kept my eyes fixed on him. His voice grew smaller and smaller.

Boris's mother yanked him behind her again and straightened her back.

"What are you afraid of her for? Teresa, the dog's dead, so it's dead. Keeping a dog costs time and money. Isn't this better? Now you can focus and have a baby sooner."

"You're already twenty-eight. If you don't hurry up, how long do you plan to wait?"

I looked at her.

She was only fifty this year, but she looked worn down, like someone in her sixties.

The flesh on her cheeks sagged, and only her eyes held a light that wasn't like usual.

In that instant, I understood.

She'd done it on purpose.

Something cold settled over me. I stared at her.

"So you used saving on the electric bill as an excuse and let Buddy die in the heat on purpose, just because you thought keeping him would get in the way of us having children?"

Boris quickly tugged at his mother.

But she mistook my calm tone for a sign that I was backing down.

She thrust out her chest.

"And what if I did? Boris told me that dog goes through a few hundred dollars a month in food alone, and if it ever got sick, there'd be no telling how much. Besides, all day long you're holding that dog, kissing it like it's your own son. If you ask me, you don't have the slightest interest in having a baby. You're getting married next month. Don't you think it's time you settled down and acted like somebody's wife?"

I sat there on the sofa and listened to every word of it.

Then I stood up.

"Are you done?"

She lifted her chin and gave a single nod.

I turned to Boris beside her.

"Boris, I want to break up. The wedding's off."

"I'm giving you one day to move out of my home."

The color, drained white before, slowly flooded back into Boris's face.

His throat bobbed a few times, and he forced out a smile.

"Teresa, this is going too far. My mom went a little overboard, sure, but she means well for us."

I didn't budge. I repeated it.

"Move out tomorrow. Otherwise, I'm calling the police."

Boris's mother finally caught up, and her shaking finger stabbed at me as she screamed.

"You, you, youwhoever heard of throwing a husband out over one dog! And is this even your house? What right do you have to throw us out?"

I didn't waste words on her. I went to my room, unlocked the drawer, and took out the property deed.

I pointed at the owner's name, "Teresa Swanson," printed in bold, and said coldly:

"See it clearly now? I bought this house. I have every right to throw out anyone I don't want here."

"And another thing. Your son and I aren't married yet. He isn't my husband, and he doesn't deserve to be."

Before this, to protect Boris's pride,

I had never once mentioned in front of his mother that I was the one who bought the wedding home.

Boris's mother was dumbstruck. She mumbled at Boris.

"Son, this houseshe really bought it?"

Boris flinched like he'd been stung. He ignored his mother and glared hard at me.

"Teresa, don't push it too far."

"I don't deserve to be your husband? I'm younger than you, I'm good-looking. Do you have any idea? My coworkers all say I'm wasting myself on a girlfriend like you."

I couldn't believe my ears.

Boris was two years younger than me. Back then, I'd agreed to be with him precisely because he seemed more mature than others his age.

After we got together, I'd asked him:

"What if people say your girlfriend's older than you? What would you do?"

He'd grinned.

"An older wife brings good fortune. Anyone who makes an issue of it is just jealous of me."

Now, he'd finally said what he really thought.

4: 4

When I first said I wanted to cancel the wedding, part of me still couldn't quite let go of these three years together.

On top of that, I'd suddenly felt unwell during this business trip.

I went to the hospital, and only then found out I was already seven weeks pregnant.

So if Boris and his mother hadn't gone too far, if they hadn't killed Buddy, I wouldn't have brought up breaking up or canceling the wedding at all.

But now, every last knot in my chest had come undone.

I looked up at Boris and said each word slowly:

"If it's a waste, then let's not keep wasting it."

"Boris, tomorrow you and your mother move out. The wedding's canceled. We each tell our own family and friends."

There was a finality in my voice I'd never had before.

Boris's pupils flickered.

Beside him, Carla suddenly dropped the bullying tone from a moment ago and shifted into an offhand, casual voice:

"Oh, come on. Every young couple squabbles. It's perfectly normal. There's no need to talk about breaking up."

She strolled over to the dinner table on her own and picked up a fork:

"Come eat. The food's getting cold."

Boris stole a glance at me, then followed her and sat down at the table too.

I laughed, furious.

I picked up my phone and made a call:

"Hello, I'd like to report a crime. Two people have forced their way into my home and refuse to leave no matter what."

At the table, both of them set down their forks at once.

Boris lunged over in one stride, and when he saw the call on my screen was to 911, he panicked.

He snatched the phone out of my hand and hung up.

His eyes were full of disbelief:

"Teresa, you, you really mean it?"

Only in that moment did he believe it.

That I really was breaking up with him, really was canceling the wedding.

Carla came over too, but she didn't believe I'd actually called the police:

"Teresa, dear, don't take this the wrong way. A woman can throw a little tantrum, that's fine, but threatening your husband with breakups and calling the cops every other minute, that's just not right."

"So the dog died. What's the big deal? Boris can just buy you another one later."

"Mom, stop talking!"

This time it was her son who cut her off.

Boris said resentfully:

"This is all your fault. You said Teresa had a temper, that we should use the dog to teach her a lesson, or she'd walk all over us once she married in."

"Well, now look. She actually called the police!"

Carla froze.

After a long moment, she mumbled:

"But I wasn't wrong, was I? You're not even married yet and she's already fighting with you, going on and on about how she earns more than you do."

"If we don't set her straight, how are you supposed to live with her later?"

My heart went cold, most of the way through.

So they really had killed Buddy on purpose.

The night before I left on my trip, Boris and I had argued, and his mother had overheard.

So she'd egged Boris on, waiting until I was away from home.

They shut Buddy out on the balcony.

In my mind, I could almost see him clawing desperately at the door.

His tongue stretched out, barking loud, doing everything he could to beg for help.

And the two people inside stayed hard as stone the whole time.

I closed my eyes, then opened them again.

Boris leaned in close to me and said, uneasy:

"Teresa, I was wrong. I shouldn't have listened to my mom and let Buddy die."

"I'll find you another one exactly like him. Just let it go, okay?"

I pulled away from the hand that was trying to reach for me.

"Do you really want me to wait for the officers to come and see you out?"

In the struggle, my handbag dropped to the floor.

Everything inside spilled out.

Carla's gaze happened to sweep across a slip of paper on the floor.

She suddenly bent down, picked it up, and looked at it again and again.

Then she straightened her back and said loudly to Boris:

"Son, don't be scared!"

"This woman can't possibly break up with you. Don't let her bluff you!"