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.”

Dale knew that I had a bad temper and he understood that it was highly unusual for me to stoop so low as to admit fault. How could I possibly have written an apology letter for the dog that took my child's life? It felt like an impossible task, grappling with the unimaginable grief and the conflicting emotions of guilt and anger that consumed me. Each attempt to even consider such a gesture felt like reopening a wound that would never heal.

“Look, you're not giving Harper a hard time. Right now, you're giving me a hard time.” He tried to convince Eileen. He proceed, "If Harper is really angry and doesn't want him, how could she possibly have taken good care of Rex all this time? We can't leave him alone at home. Or do you think we have to give him away? If we give him to someone else, are you sure he'll be well cared for and get enough food? She takes better care of Rex than both of us do.”

It was true. Since the dog came to our house, he was treated like a king. He always got the first bite of meat from the table. We walked around the place where he was lying down. The imported canned food he enjoyed cost more than a meal for us and all these expenses came out of my own pocket. It was a clear expression of love—both Dale and I adored him and we treated him as part of our family.

As for Eileen, she was a regular at nightclubs, often sharing images of her indulging in food, drinks and leisure activities. She rarely spent time at home. How could she be expected to provide proper care for Rex? Yet, she still found reasons to pout.

“But your wife is too tough on him. She's kept him in a cage and it's really affecting his mood. You can take him back, but you'll need to promise me that she won't put him in a cage. Otherwise, he's staying put.”

Dale was caught in the middle, carefully testing the waters with me. “She said you've scared the dog so badly it's traumatized. If I bring him back and he ends up in a cage again-”

“I will never put him in a cage again,” I cut him off, my words edged with frustration.

“What? So where will you put him if not in a cage?”

“In the child's room.”

“You don't really want Rex back, do you?” Dale thought I was joking. I took a photo of the empty child's room that I cleared out this afternoon and sent it to him. My heart shattered as I packed away his belongings, my poor son, defeated in life by a dog. How could this happen?

“I'm serious, his room is ready. Hurry up and bring him home.”

“Then where will Liam sleep?”

My heart tightened at the sound of my son's name. I swallowed, trying hard to maintain my composure as I replied, “Don't worry, I've got a cozy bed ready for him to sleep.”

The two of them fell silent. Shortly after, Dale's pretended reluctance but eventual agreement could be heard over the phone.

“Well, child’s room sounds okay. Just don't scold him if he gets on the couch, will you?”

“I won’t.”

I've always been a big dog lover. Most dogs were friendly towards me, except for this terrier named Rex. He bit me on his first day at our house. Fortunately, I was wearing cotton pants and wasn't bitten through.

Dale mentioned he had been wandering around for too long, causing stress and fear. But when Liam tried to get close to him, Rex bared his teeth at him. I was worried about my son getting bitten. But Dale didn't share my concern and saying, “Don't provoke him and he won't bite.”

His arrival made me uncomfortable. Why would he bring home a dog that was a danger to the family? Did he think this was Caesar Millan's show or something? Yet Dale pleaded with me to let us take in the dog temporarily and see if he would be tame down.

The dog behaved very well with him, but was aggressive and mean towards me and my son. As a compromise to ensure my child's safety and prevent Dale from feeling sad, I bought a dog’s cage and put Rex in there.

We lived with him for over a year and things were quite peaceful. I never expected the dog to bite my child one day. But how could he have bitten my child when he was always kept inside the crate? When I pulled up the surveillance camera footage, I was furious.

Apparently, Dale would always sneak him out of the crate whenever I wasn't home. On the day Liam was bitten, he was in the living room, wanting to draw at the table. He pulled up a chair to sit down, unaware that there was a sleeping dog underneath it. The dog was startled and immediately lunged at him, biting his calf.

In the surveillance video, it bared its teeth, asserting itself as if it were the master of the house. My son was crying and sitting on the ground and my heart was shattered. If I had been firm about giving it away from the beginning, this wouldn't have happened. But now I can't dwell on blaming myself. Before my son passed away, I still wished to keep him, feeling remorse about kicking him, but now, I just want to skin it alive.

And those scoundrels, I vowed they would pay for their deeds. After the water had boiled for the fifth or sixth time, the door finally creaked open. Dale came back with the accursed dog in tow.

Dale walked in, put the dog in the room and left in a hurry. He didn't even take off his shoes. It was Sunday and Dale would be working tomorrow. He wouldn't want to spend his last day off at home and I suspected he would go play chess. Before leaving, he told me to get Rex some food.

“Don't worry, I'll feed him,” I assured, just before I heard the door slammed shut. It was time for me to get started. The damn dog seemed a bit uneasy since its return. It sniffed the air, looking defensive, as if warning me to stay away.

Knowing he had rabies, I put on my gloves before going inside. When I came out of my room, he was standing on the couch, peeing. The pee ran down into the cracks of the couch, imparting a pungent, foul odor. Trying to stay calm, I put his favorite canned food in the corner. It seemed like he knew there was medicine in his food because after sniffing it, he turned and trotted off. My patience ran out and I rushed over to grab him. He was sensitive and very agile. He turned his head so quickly to bite at my wrist. Reacting instinctively, I dodged to the side.

He darted under the bedroom bed, growling at me. I grabbed the ashtray and hurled it at the dog, causing him to flee to the windowsill and jump over the railing. Living on the ground floor, I knew the fall wouldn't be lethal. With urgency, I swung open the door and dashed outside to pursue the dog. Perhaps upon landing, he had hurt itself; he limped away from me, seeking refuge under a nearby car. From there, he continued to snarl at me, clearly agitated and defensive.

"What are you doing?” Mable Prince’s voice cut through the tension as she spotted me crouched on the ground, peering intently. She was my neighbor, always sticking her nose into everything and often twisting situations around. Honestly, I tried to avoid getting involved with her whenever possible.

I grabbed a stone and threw it at the dog, causing him to scurry into the bushes and hide in a corner. As I chased after him, Mrs. Prince suddenly yanked me back.

“What’s gotten into you? Dale treats that dog like his own child. If you have a fight with him, don't take your anger out on that dog. That poor creature doesn’t know a thing about human’s business!” Because of her loud shouting, a crowd started to gather around us. Soon, more and more people joined in, their voices rising in accusation about me abusing the dog.

“She seemed like a nice woman, turns out she's a horrible an animal abuser.”

“Look, the dog seems terrified, he's shaking so hard he's drooling. It must be because she beat him so badly.”

I remember when the dog drooled, it meant the virus had already entered its brain and there was no chance for him to recover. To prevent Rex from biting anyone else, I picked up the nearest tree branch and approached the rabid dog slowly.

Just as I took a couple of steps, Mrs. Prince grabbed me tightly, “Get a hold of yourself, will you? This is not how you should handle this. There’s plenty-”

“You want to get bitten? This dog has rabies!” I snapped. “Don't say I didn't warn you.” I made my voice icy cold as I spouted the least sentence.

Mrs. Prince froze instantly. She stared at me with wide eyes, her face filled with horror.

“If the dog has rabies, why would she want to catch it?

“Shouldn't we call animal control?”

“That's why we have to look at things from both sides. As far as I know, Harper isn't someone who is cruel to animals. She's doing this because she's trying to protect others.”

“What do you know about what's in people's hearts? A lot of people seem nice to dogs on the outside but they're actually a dog fight breeder. She could be saying this because a lot of people have caught her. Moreover, this is a terrier, they are used a lot in dog fighting.”

As I looked at several ‘morally-good-people attempting to block my way, I took a big stone. I gripped the stone tightly, intending to strike the dog directly, smashing it to death. But just as I lifted my hand, someone grabbed it firmly, stopping me in my tracks.

“Harper, are you crazy?”

The news traveled fast. Dale, who was playing chess in the next unit, came over as soon as he heard that his wife was beating a dog in the parking lot. He came with Eileen in tow. Eileen was beautifully dressed and put on a beautiful make-up. When she saw her lovely dog cowering in the corner of the park, she covered her mouth with her shiny nails.

“Oh my God, what happened to Rex? Why’s he drooling? What have you done to him?” She shot me a fierce glare before rushing to hug the dog. The moment her hand made contact with Rex, he bit down hard, causing her hand to bleed profusely.

Dale grabbed a tissue to gently wipe her wound, while concerned onlookers urged him to take her to the hospital.

“Your wife said that this dog has rabies. You should take her to hospital to get an anti-rabies shot,” someone insisted.

“Bullshit. How could a domestic dog have rabies?” Dale retorted.

Eileen winced in pain as she clutched her bitten hand, frustration evident in her curses directed at the well-intentioned crowd. Ignoring her discomfort, she bravely attempted to approach the frightened dog once more, hoping to reassure it and calm its fears. However, Dale intervened swiftly, his grip firm as he pulled her back, concerned for both her safety and the dog's agitation.

“Rex looks freak out. Let’s give him a break.” He said softly, “Go to the hospital. I’ll be waiting here so no one would touch him.”

Dale glared at me as if he wanted to strangle me. Meanwhile, Eileen wept in anguish. Dale frowned, unable to comprehend why I had persuaded him to retrieve the dog with gentle words, only for things to end up like this. He was now focused on resolving the issue.

“Did Liam annoy him so Rex bit him and you went out after him to hit him?” It was nothing but an accusatory tone. “Didn't I tell you two not to bother him? Why don’t you get it?”

I wanted desperately to tell him that his son had passed away. Yet, in the heat of my anger, the words lodged in my throat, refusing to come out. Deep inside, regret gnawed at me, realizing the immense mistake I had made in marrying someone like him.

The dog was going to die anyway and I didn't want to waste time explaining, so I turned and walked away.

Just as I took a few steps, someone suddenly shouted in a shrill voice, “There's something wrong with the dog!”

The dying dog was foaming at the mouth, his limbs were all twitching uncontrollably. He was thrashing around, hitting his body to the walls. The onlookers were horrified. “This dog really must have rabies.”

Eileen collapsed, broke free from Dale's grasp and ran towards the dog, crying uncontrollably.

“Shut the fuck up! There’s no way my baby has rabies. It definitely because this damn woman kicked him so hard in the head!”

She distanced herself from her beloved pet. She was surely too afraid to approach the dog, seeing how crazy it was.

A few minutes later, the dog fell on the floor. He convulsed violently, emitting a pitiful whimper as his final breath left his body. Eileen turned towards Dale, tears streaming down her face. Her lips moved but no sound came out.

“Dale, what are you waiting for? Go take our boy to the vet!”

As soon as her words dropped, the crowd erupted in shock.

“Wait, what? Am I hearing this right? Their son? So the dog was her pet?”

“Oh my goodness, I always thought they were just friends.”

“It seems like she found out they were having an affair and therefore took out her anger on this dog.”

The people around started to show sympathy towards me, though not everyone did. Because a second later, some of them started speaking up for the dog.

“She has every right to be angry after finding out her husband cheated, but that doesn't mean she can take it out on this dog. The dog is innocent.”

“Exactly,” answered the other.

Not wanting to bother arguing with them, I turned around to leave. However, before I could take a step, Eileen rushed towards me with surprising speed. Her hand swung and struck my face with force, the sound echoing in the tense atmosphere around us.