But one day, I picked up the phone and calmly said to the local dog meat restaurant:
“I have a dog here. You can take it for free. Send someone over.”
——
My daughter, sitting on the sofa, lunged for my phone.
“Mom, what are you doing? Tilly’s so well-behaved—how could you?”
My sister-in-law stared in disbelief. “If you don’t want him, give him away, but… to a dog meat restaurant?”
My mother-in-law rushed in from the kitchen. “Evelaine, are you sick? You and Edmund always treated Tilly like family! He even has a bit of Edmund’s spirit in him now. Why get rid of him?”
I glanced at the dog and said flatly, “We’ve raised him for seven years. That’s enough.”
The men from the dog meat shop arrived quickly, sacks and traps in hand.
My daughter broke into tears, clutching Tilly. “Please, Mom! Don’t let them take him!”
I met her gaze, my voice cold and unshakable.
“This dog can’t be kept.”
I turned to the men. “Take him. Now.”
My daughter, mother-in-law, and sister-in-law rushed to block them.
I raised my voice, sharp as a blade:
“Didn’t you hear me? This dog. Can’t. Be. Kept.”
My daughter, mother-in-law, and sister-in-law froze in place.
They had never seen me so cold, so unyielding.