**Diary Entry**
Love came unexpectedly, but something went wrong.
One evening, as Emily walked home from work through the little park near her flat, a tiny puppy tumbled out from the bushes and right into her path. He was round and plump, like a little butterball.
“Oh, where did you come from, you sweet thing?” she murmured, bending down.
The pup yipped, wagging his tiny tail, nuzzling her trainers. She scooped him up, and the way he gazed at her with those sad, loyal eyes—she couldn’t leave him there.
Emily carried him home, unlocked her flat, and set him down. He immediately began sniffing around, exploring.
“What am I going to do with you? I’ve never even had a dog before… oh, and I’ve got to think of a name for you.” She frowned, trying to decide. She had no idea what breed he was, whether he’d stay small or grow huge. Meanwhile, he trotted off. She glanced around.
“Oi, where’ve you gone? Jack!” she called—and out he rolled from behind the telly stand. “Oh, so you’re Jack, are you? You answered to that. Right then, Jack it is. And if you grow big, we’ll call you Jacko.”
The pup whined, hungry. Emily went to the kitchen, and he followed. Opening the fridge, she found nothing suitable.
“I’ll have to get milk at least,” she thought. “Better yet, pop into the pet shop across the road for advice.” She grabbed her coat.
“Right, Jack, I’m off to the shops. You stay here. Be good.” She shut the door carefully behind her—he tried to follow.
At the pet shop, she explained her predicament to the clerk. “I’ve no clue what to feed him. Bit out of my depth.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll manage. I’ll explain everything, and Google’s your friend.”
Back home with bags of puppy food, Emily settled into a routine. Jack grew bigger every day, and she learned fast—how to care for him, even walking him on a lead, terrified he’d bolt.
“Jack, no. Jack, leave it!” she’d command.
Work was the worst—she’d fret all day.
“What’s he destroying now? What’s he chewed this time?”
Jack grew into Jacko—not enormous, but decent-sized, some scruffy mix of breeds with short brown fur. Her neighbour Margaret, who had a pedigree German Shepherd and knew dogs well, said,
“Looks like a Labrador mix, Em.”
“Fine by me,” Emily said, grinning. “I didn’t pick him—he picked me.”
A year passed. She still called him Jack most days, Jacko when he misbehaved. He was obedient, followed commands. Mornings and evenings, he proudly “walked her,” as she joked—he led, she followed.
“Jacko, because of you, I can’t even sleep in on weekends. You’re my alarm clock, you are.” She ruffled his ears.
Weekends were his favourite, though—long walks to the park by the lake, where the dog run let him go wild. He’d trot home, tongue lolling. Jack was her steadfast friend, comforting her when she was low, and she did the same for him. She couldn’t imagine life without him.
Before Jack found her, she’d broken up with her ex, Daniel. They’d lived together in her flat for a year, constantly rowing. He was hopeless—shoes left in the hallway, jacket dumped on the console. At first, she tidied after him. Then she snapped.
“Dan, there’s a place for things. Jacket on the hook, shoes in the rack. I’m not your maid.”
“Why bother? I’ll just wear them tomorrow,” he’d retorted.
She’d never met anyone so messy. Toothpaste smeared on the sink, mirror, even the bathroom floor. Towels never hung up. Plates left out. She never reformed him. Their final fight ended with her kicking him out—he’d grown defensive, jealous, always questioning her, checking her phone.
Her three-bed flat in central London was inherited from her grandmother, who’d fallen ill and moved in with Emily’s parents. Granddad Charles, a surgeon, had left it to her before he passed—heart trouble.
Emily worked in an office nearby, grateful for the short commute. Jack waited patiently by the door when she returned, leash in mouth. She’d grab dog food on her lunch break so he wouldn’t wait too long.
Then Andrew came along—unexpectedly, when she wasn’t even looking. She was still bruised from Daniel. But as they say, love sneaks up on you.
Their romance was whirlwind. She was twenty-six, he thirty. She fell hard, happier than she’d ever been.
“Can it really be like this?” she wondered. “No fights, no interrogations—just easy.”
Andrew never made scenes. He was quiet, thoughtful, full of surprises. Soon, they married.
But one thing gnawed at her—his attitude toward Jack.
After the wedding, they argued about where to live. Her flat was central, prime for renting. His was mediocre, but with work, it’d do.
“Let’s renovate yours and move,” she suggested.
He dug his heels in. “Not with the dog. I don’t like pets. Never have.”
Emily couldn’t fathom it. Jack, for his part, ignored Andrew. She’d never abandon him. After endless debates, they stayed in her flat.
“Don’t expect me to look after him,” Andrew warned.
She didn’t ask.
Then, tragedy struck—her cousin died in a car crash. She had to go to Manchester for three days to help her aunt. Reluctantly, Andrew agreed to mind Jack.
She returned midday to an empty flat, Jack ecstatic to see her. She took him out, but he tugged insistently away from the park.
“Jack, where are we going?” she muttered, letting him lead. Near a café, he growled.
Emily froze. Andrew’s car was parked outside.
“He’s supposed to be at work.” She tied Jack’s lead to a railing and stepped inside.
There he was—holding hands with a pretty young woman, gazing into her eyes. Emily’s stomach dropped. She fled, untied Jack, and wandered aimlessly until he led her to a bench. She sat, numb. Jack rested his head on her lap, sensing her pain.
She petted him absently, stewing.
“If I confront him now, he’ll lie. ‘Business meeting.’ But what if it’s all lies?”
Later, Andrew came home.
“Hey, you’re back. Work’s been mad. Boss is cracking the whip—might have to stay late.”
“Since when?”
“New contracts. Loads of overtime.”
“Hope the pay’s worth it,” she said flatly.
“Hope so,” he mumbled, retreating to his phone.
They’d never snooped before—total trust. Now, suspicion gnawed at her. The next morning, his phone buzzed as he showered. She peeked.
*Good morning, darling. Miss you. Can’t wait to see you tonight. Love you. Xx*
“Seriously? He doesn’t even lock his phone. Thinks I’d never look.”
She said nothing, left for work.
The next day, another message—same time.
*Meet at our café after work. Love you.*
That evening, Jack pulled her straight to the café. No car yet. Then—Andrew’s Audi rolled up. She ducked behind a tree.
“Easy, Jack.”
She watched him help a woman out, arm in arm, kissing before entering. Jack pawed the ground, whining—*See? This is your man.*
After a pause, Emily marched in. They were clinking glasses, laughing.
“Hello, lovebirds,” she said coolly. “Business meeting, is it?”
Andrew paled. The girl pouted.
“Tim, who’s this?”
“His wife,” Emily said. “He forgot to mention me?”
The girl’s face fell.
“Right. Andrew, don’t bother coming home. I’ll pack your things. Good luck.”
Outside, she untied Jack.
“Thanks, mate. You showed me the truth.”
She hadn’t thought him capable of cheating.
Later, Andrew wailed as he collected his things, Jack glaring. “It was once! One mistake!”
Emily stood firm. Later, she cried—wondering why people betrayed trust.
At least dogs never did.
