I Divorced Him For A Dog

Seven decades old, and my grandmother was divorcing my grandfather.
The reason? Hed killed and eaten the dog shed raised for five years.
The whole family urged her to forget it. It was just an animal, for heavens sake.
But my grandmother, Doris, wouldnt budge.
My grandfather, Arthur, furious, slammed his hand on the table. Fine! Divorce me then! Whos scared?
Yet, later, hed be leaning on his cane, a whimpering puppy cradled in his arms, practically begging Doris for forgiveness.
1
The day my Uncle Owen brought his new girlfriend home, Grandpa Arthur killed Rusty, the mutt Grandma Doris had raised for five years.
The family kept it a secret from her, tossing the chopped-up bones into the stockpot and turning it into a rich, savory stew.
Doris worked tirelessly in the kitchen for three hours. When she finally came out, the pot on the dining table was nearly scraped clean.
Grandpa Arthur dipped his ladle, filling a bowl with the rich, bone broth. He handed it to her with a smile. Its cold out. Drink this to warm up.
Grandma Doris glanced at the nearly empty pot, then slowly stood and walked toward the doghouse.
Rusty always loves bone broth, she muttered.
This soup should go to Rusty.
But when she reached the little wooden house, the dog that usually bounded out, tail wagging, wasnt there.
Rusty? Rusty! Doris called out a few times, but no silhouette appeared.
She mumbled to herself, Maybe he went out to play?
She poured the broth into Rustys bowl. As she walked back toward the house, her eyes fell on a patch of yellow fur clinging to a dark stain on the ground.
She knew that shade of yellow. She knew it intimately. In a single, horrifying instant, she recognized it as Rustys coat.
Her hands trembling, she shuffled closer, step by agonizing step.
When she finally saw the blood-soaked fur scattered on the earth, a soundless scream caught in her throat. She staggered backward, almost losing her footing.
Inside the dining room, the family chatted, oblivious to Doriss silent breakdown just outside the door.
She collected herself, her pace becoming a frantic, unsteady shamble as she entered the kitchen. She grabbed a butcher knife, its blade wickedly sharp, and charged into the living room.
Everyone froze. They stared at Doris, bewildered, unable to comprehend the sight of their tiny, elderly matriarch wielding a deadly weapon. Owens girlfriend, Madison, sitting next to him and casually eating a grape, was terrified to see her future mother-in-law standing over her with a knife.
Mom! What are you doing?! Owen shouted first.
Doriss eyes were bloodshot, scanning the room.
Her voice, when it came, was a raw, strained rasp. Where is Rusty?!
Arthur picked a piece of bone from his tooth, utterly unconcerned. That mutt by the door? Oh, we just finished eating him! He gestured toward the empty stew pot on the table.
In front of every seat was a small mountain of bones.
Rustys bones.
The bones of the dog she had painstakingly loved and cared for for five years.
Doris lost it.
She brought the knife down, sinking the tip deep into the sturdy oak table. Then, with a scream, she grabbed the edge and flipped the whole thing over.
2
Plates, bowls, and silverware crashed to the hardwood floor, a thunderous sound that echoed through the sudden silence.
Owen and Arthur, sitting closest to the blast zone, scrambled to their feet.
When the dust settled, Arthur pointed a shaking finger right at Doriss face.
Doris, what the hell is wrong with you?! Are you completely insane?!
Owen pulled Madison defensively behind him, his eyes filled with sheer resentment. This was the first time hed brought his girlfriend home, and his own mother had just flipped the dinner table after theyd eaten. How was he supposed to explain this? How could he possibly earn Madisons forgiveness?
Yes, I am insane! Doris shrieked.
Arthur, you ate my dog without my permission!
You monster!
Doris was a woman whod read books, a woman whod grown up in a respectable family before the war. Even in her most blinding fury, she could only call him a monstera word that felt ridiculously ineffective against his monumental cruelty.
Arthur clutched his chest, breathing in gasps.
It was just a damn animal! A stray mutt!
You flipped the table for an animal!
You are completely unreasonable!
He was right, in their eyes. Rusty was just an animal.
Doris had found Rusty when he was barely the size of her palm, his right leg crushed by a car. Everyone told her the puppy wouldnt make it, but Doris had nursed him back to life, spoonful by spoonful of rice water.
He grew up with a permanent limp, but it didnt slow him down. Every time Doris walked to the fields, Rusty was always ahead of her, clearing the path. With Rusty by her side, even simple weeding felt like a joyful endeavor.
The winters in the Midwest countryside were brutal. Fearing the cold, Doris had worked hard, sawing planks to build Rusty a sturdy doghouse. She lined the bottom with old clothes, making it warm and cozy even when it snowed.
She never chained him up. Doris always said, humans need freedom, and so do dogs.
Rusty became the freest dog in Cedar Creek. Hed spend his days hunting squirrels in the spring, splashing in the creek in the summer, chasing stray cats in the fall, and trotting through the snow in the winter.
Five years of that glorious, happy life. Five years of freedom.
Exhausted, Doris finally sank onto a nearby stool. Her eyes were empty, staring at the shattered ceramic on the floor. She spoke, her voice low and broken. Arthur. I want a divorce.
3
The news that Doris, at seventy, wanted a divorce spread like wildfire, reaching my parents back in Chicago almost instantly.
My dad had left for college and never looked back, settling in the city. When I was born, theyd promptly dropped me off with my grandmother. The country schools werent great, and I wasnt a scholar, so I took a vocational course and started working right out of high school.
My parents bought train tickets and rushed home that very night.
They walked into a disaster. The mess was still there; if Doris didnt clean it up, no one else would. Arthur was parked on the sofa, watching the news. Doris was locked in her room, quietly weeping.
My father went to comfort Grandpa Arthur. My mother went into the room to comfort Grandma Doris.
Shes lost her mind, Arthur scoffed. Seventy years old, and she wants to divorce me over a damn animal! Wheres she going to go? Whats she going to do? She has no house, no money. Is she planning to be a beggar?
Doris sat on the edge of the bed, tearfully holding a photo of Rusty.
I had taken the picture when I was home for Christmas. Doris was sitting on the porch swing, Rusty cradled in her arms, both of them beaming. Shed loved the photo and asked me to print copies. I printed ten.
She kept the best one on her nightstand, looking at it whenever she was idle.
He was so handsome, shed whisper. Rusty was the prettiest dog in the whole county.
My mother gently patted her back. Mom, Rusty was just a dog. Hes gone. If you want one so badly, Ill buy you a new one.
She thought of the beautiful, intelligent city dogs. A Border Collie that could herd sheep, maybe a fancy Pomeranian. Buy a new one, and Doris would stop this foolishness.
Doris shook her head. They wont be Rusty.
Dogs are like people. You spend enough time with them, you form a bond.
I considered Rusty family, Doris said, her voice strained. He killed Rusty. Thats like killing my family.
Sue Ellen, she looked up at my mother. I have to get this divorce.
I cant live with a murderer.
My mother desperately wanted to laugh. A dog? A murderer? Was she serious?
But she managed to keep the scorn from her face.
4
They couldnt persuade her. There was no reasoning with her.
Arthur pointed a finger at her closed door. She dares to divorce me? If shes so set on it, well go to the courthouse tomorrow!
Doriss response was always the same: I cant live with a murderer. This marriage is over.
My parents had no choice. They cleaned up the house, stayed one night, and left. They figured two seventy-year-olds with one foot in the grave couldnt really cause any lasting trouble.
I remembered the last time Doris tried to file for divorce, five years ago.
She was sick, lying in bed, unable to move. Arthur came home after a poker game to a cold, dark house and no dinner. He kicked open the bedroom door in a rage.
If youre going to die, then die! If youre not dead, get up and cook me a meal!
Are you trying to starve me?
Doris had a fever of 104 degrees, her head spinning, her body aching. She couldnt even crawl out of bed, let alone cook.
Arthur was convinced she was faking it.
He went to the bathroom, brought back a basin of cold water, and dumped it right over her head. Her nightgown was soaked, the comforter ruined.
Doris had no choice but to bite back a cry and struggle out of bed to change her clothes and the linens. Arthur watched her, arms crossed.
See? You can get up.
Stop putting on a show!
Doris staggered to the kitchen to start dinner, but halfway through, she collapsed.
If Arthur hadnt smelled the burning oil, he might not have found her until morning.
She was taken to the hospital. The doctor tore into Arthur for a full half-hour. How could you make her cook when she was this sick? Are your legs broken?
When Doris woke up, Arthur blamed her for everything.
What kind of wife gets sick and forces me to take care of her?
You even had to faint? Why didnt you just die then? Why make me play nurse?
Im not a servant!
Arthur stomped off, leaving Doris alone. If I hadnt happened to come home for a visit, she wouldnt have had anyone by her side.
The first thing Doris did after she was discharged was demand a divorce.
People say young couples become old companions. But for Doris and Arthur, even with their hair white, they had never been partners.
Fifty years of marriage, and all she had was a lifetime of swallowing her pride and taking the abuse. This time, she was finished.
Who had convinced her to stay five years ago?
Oh, right. It was Rusty. Shed found him and brought him home.
Now Rusty was gone. Doris was determined to leave.
5
Doris had my old smartphonethe one Id given her so she could take pictures of Rusty. Shed never even turned it on.
This time, she took it and walked three miles to the phone store to ask a clerk how to use it. The young woman patiently showed her the features and even charged the battery for her.
That night, the phone rang in my apartment.
I was raised by Doris; we were close. After I started working, Id try to visit when I could, always bringing Rusty his favorite treats and cans of food.
I was just walking home under the city lights when her call came.
Grandma? I was surprised. She never called me.
When she heard my voice, she choked up.
Liz, she whispered.
Can you come home to see Grandma?
Grandma misses you.
My parents hadnt told me about the divorce, so I was completely in the dark. I figured she was just lonely, so I took a couple of days off work and drove home the next morning.
Doris was sitting on the porch swing when she saw me pull up with my suitcase. Her eyes instantly filled with tears. She stood up, frail and shaky, to meet me.
Liz, youre home.
I walked toward her, and a heavy sense of absence settled over me. Instinctively, I asked, Wheres Rusty?
The tears in her eyes finally spilled over.
Doris pulled me close and, bit by bit, poured out the whole horrific story.
They ate Rusty.
Your grandfather and Owen they cooked and ate him.
My Rusty. My dog, who stayed with me for five years.
Her voice was thick with sobs, punctuated by sharp intakes of breath. She didnt want to cry in front of her granddaughter, but she couldnt stop.
Liz, Im divorcing your grandfather.
She looked at me expectantly, hoping for a different response. Not the scolding Id heard my parents give, and not the condemnation of Arthur and Owen.
But I was silent.
Grandpa Arthur was right. She had no money, no home to call her own. Where would she go after the divorce?
Seeing my silence, Doris forced a small, broken smile.
She lightly wiped her eyes. Liz, I was just saying that. Dont worry about it.
What do you want for lunch?
Watching her retreat behind that mask of indifference, my heart ached so badly I felt like I could weep water.
6
I stayed up all night, researching divorce proceedings online. I was only seventeen, not even a legal adult, and the word divorce felt a million miles away.
But the internet is full of good people. Before morning, Id found two lawyers who offered pro-bono help for elders.
The next day, I approached Doris.
I support your divorce, Grandma.
Her eyes immediately filled with fresh tears.
My sweet Liz. I knew you were different.
I used an online template to draft the divorce papers, printed them, and handed them to Arthur.
He was sitting on the porch, smoking. When he saw the legal documents in Doriss hand, he sneered.
Seriously? Youre really going through with this?
Doris, two days of throwing a fit is enough! This isnt over yet?
Divorce me? Do you have money? Do you have a house?
Youre going to beg on the street after I kick you out!
Arthur turned his glare on me. And you! Youre just as bad, stirring the pot with your grandmother!
Arthur never liked me because I was a girl. He always pressured my parents to have another child, a boy. My parents made good money, but they were cheap. They figured girls dont need a house or a car, and they bring in a dowry when they marry. So they ignored Arthur.
Doris gripped the divorce papers tightly. I told you, I want a divorce!
If you wont sign, Ill file suit!
I had just taught her that word: sue.
Arthur snatched the papers, scanning the dense text. He didnt bother reading. He took the pen from Doriss hand and scribbled his signature on the last page.
Then he threw the document back in her face.
Fine! Well divorce tomorrow! Who backs out is a coward!
Doris flinched as the paper struck her cheek, but she immediately bent down and retrieved it, her face radiating joy.
Liz, your grandfather signed it.
Im going to divorce him tomorrow.
Doris was genuinely happy. Even the wrinkles around her eyes seemed to turn upward in a smile.
7
The next day, Arthur and Doris actually drove to the County Courthouse.
The clerk at the Family Court frowned at the sight of the two white-haired seventy-year-olds coming in to file for separation.
You... want to divorce?
Doriss voice was firm. Yes, we do.
The clerk reviewed the paperwork and scheduled an appointment.
You have a thirty-day cooling-off period. Come back after that to finalize.
The news of Arthur and Doris going to the courthouse reached my parents in Chicago again. This time, even Uncle Owen rushed back.
They all gathered, circling Doris, launching an attack as if she had committed a heinous crime.
Mom, youre seventy years old. Why are you acting like a teenager? My father started the lecture.
Divorcing? Arent you embarrassed?
Owen chimed in, The last time, you flipped the table in front of Maddie. Do you know how hard I had to work to calm her down?
She even suggested you had mental issues! Do you know that?
It was just a dog! He was eaten, so what?
We raise chickens and ducks to eat! Are dogs somehow better than them?
My mothers tone was slightly softer.
Mom, stop this nonsense. You and Dad have been married for fifty years. Friction is normal.
If you want a dog, Ill buy you a dog.
My mother pulled out her phone to show Doris pictures of fancy city breeds. A Bichon Frise, a Maltese, a Miniature Poodle. They were washed, clipped, and groomed to look like expensive, fluffy dolls.
Doris just pursed her lips, saying nothing.
Alright, Ive decided, my father declared, sealing the deal.
Well buy Mom a dog in a couple of days, and thats the end of it!
And Dad, youre at fault too. Why did you have to eat Moms dog? Do we not have enough money to buy our own meat?
It was the first time Arthur had ever been scolded by his children. He just rolled his eyes and stayed silent.

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