When George was convicted of drink driving for the second time and he had his licence suspended, he came to one of those crossroads in life and faced the decision: drinking or driving. It was a matter of priorities. He decided in favour of drinking, he sold his car and never drove again. It was the more socially responsible option. He bought a good bicycle and cycled to work. The exercise helped to offset the effects of the booze but not sufficiently to constrain his expanding girth as he no longer needed to moderate his drinking.
Margaret had her car and chauffeured George when automotive transport was required to travel long distance, carry cargo or go out together to socialise, which rarely happened. This arrangement worked well until they came to another crossroads. George had a pet Labrador called Goldie, loyally devoted to her master, as Labs tend to be. As Goldie was ageing she developed a form of canine dementia with unfortunate concomitant bad habits and erratic behaviour. After a lifetime of docility, Goldie became obsessively territorial and began to behave quite aggressively to visitors who came to the house.
George had had Goldie from a pup before he had even met Margaret and when Margaret moved in Goldie tolerated her but never really warmed to her. With Goldie’s advancing dementia, she became increasingly jealous and resentful of Margaret and began to growl menacingly at her when George and Margaret cuddled up together on the sofa. Goldie had always been an inside dog but George would put her out when she was so surly, which just exacerbated her resentment. Margaret insisted that Goldie be exclusively an outside dog, especially since it had also become occasionally incontinent. However, neither Goldie nor George was prepared to make that concession and the issue became increasingly contentious.
“Goldie has to go,” Margaret finally declared. “Either the dog goes or I go.”
George agonised over this ultimatum. ‘The dog goes’ meant the dog gets ‘put down’, that euphemism for killing a pet. He was not prepared to kill his loyal companion of many years just because she had become inconvenient. It was an unreasonable demand. It was inhumane. There was also the transport consideration. Without Margaret he would have no car and no driver. Such a dilemma. It played on George’s mind so much that he talked about it to his mate Gazza at the pub.
“Lock them both in the boot of your car for a while,” Gazza suggested, “and see who’s happy to see you when you let them out.”
“No, I can’t do that,” said George. “I don’t have a car. Remember?”
“Oh yeah, I forgot.” Gazza emptied the jug into his glass and said, “Maybe she was just bluffing.”
Maybe Margaret was bluffing. George would take the risk and call her bluff. He did not want to lose Margaret but, in the end, his relationship with Goldie predated Margaret’s and still demanded his loyalty.
Margaret was not bluffing. She packed up her stuff and left. “I can’t believe you chose that mangy mutt over me,” she said, incredulously. “I hope you’re happy together.” And with that mordant comment she walked out. Goldie followed her out the door and barked her off the premises as she got in her car and drove off.