The house was quiet, a kind of peaceful stillness that only comes when a baby is asleep. I sat on the couch, cradling my coffee cup while Bear, our big Newfoundland dog, lay stretched out on the rug beside the crib. He was my companion, my shadow, for five years now, ever since Tom brought him home as an anniversary gift. And now, he had a new job—watching over our baby, Sophie.
Sophie shifted in her crib, her tiny hand reaching up as if to grab the air. I sighed, setting my cup down and getting up to check on her.
“Hold on, sweet pea,” I whispered, peeking over the edge of the crib.
Bear nudged my leg, and I couldn’t help but laugh when I saw that he’d grabbed Sophie’s burp cloth off the couch and brought it to me.
“Okay, clever boy,” I chuckled, holding the wet cloth at arm’s length. “We need to get that drool under control before she starts crawling. Deal?” Bear’s tail wagged so hard I thought he’d knock something over.
Just then, the front door swung open. The sharp sound of heels tapping on hardwood made my stomach tighten. I didn’t even need to look up. Karen, my mother-in-law, was here again.
She breezed into the room, her eyes immediately locking onto Bear and the burp cloth in my hand. Her face twisted in disgust.
“You’re letting that slobber machine near the baby’s things?” she said, pointing at the cloth. “That’s unsanitary! Put him outside.”
“Bear’s fine,” I said, trying to stay calm as I walked over to the laundry basket to grab a clean burp cloth. “He’s not hurting anyone.”
Karen sniffed and gave the room a look like she was inspecting it. “A dog that big doesn’t belong near a baby. You think it’s cute now, but just wait until he gets between you and the baby. You don’t know what he’s capable of.”
Her words hit harder than I expected. I felt my chest tighten, but I forced a laugh. “Bear? Dangerous? He’s a big marshmallow.”
“Exactly!” Karen snapped, crossing her arms. “He’s too big. You don’t understand how dangerous dogs can be. It only takes one second for something to go wrong.”
The door opened again, and Tom, my husband, walked in, shrugging off his coat.
“Hey, everyone,” he said, his eyes flicking from Karen to me. “What’s going on?”
Karen turned to him like she was about to make a grand statement. “We were just discussing the dog. He has to go, Tom. It’s only a matter of time before he harms the baby.”
“Mom,” Tom interrupted, holding up his hands. “The worst Bear will do is slobber all over Sophie.”
Karen muttered under her breath and went on rearranging baby things. She started criticizing the state of the house, and when I began burping Sophie after her feed, she tried to snatch her out of my arms.
“That’s not how you burp a baby!” she cried.
Bear let out a low growl, and Karen immediately stepped back.
“See? I told you he was dangerous,” she declared. “Put the dog outside now, or better yet, get rid of him!”
This went on for two weeks. Karen showed up every day, unannounced, armed with more criticism. It was driving me crazy. Every time I tried to talk to Tom about it, he just brushed it off.
“She’s just being protective,” he’d say. “Her heart’s in the right place.”
But today, Karen was back again, and the tension in the house was unbearable. She shot a glare at Bear, then did something completely out of line. She walked right over to him, grabbed his collar, and yanked.
“You’re going outside right now!” she ordered.
Bear, standing his ground, growled low in his throat.
“Let him be!” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended. “He won’t let you take him away from Sophie.”
Karen’s voice turned icy, her words sharp. “He’s too possessive. It’s dangerous.”
“Bear is protecting her!” I shouted, standing tall. “You’re the one provoking him, Karen.”
“Enough!” Karen barked, her voice cold. “I’m only thinking of Sophie’s safety. You’ll thank me one day.”
When she finally left, I stood on the porch, holding Sophie to my chest while Bear sat at my feet. I watched Karen’s car disappear down the street and sighed.
“Guess we’ll have to talk to Dad about Grandma, huh?” I whispered to Sophie.
I carried Sophie inside and set her down for a nap. Bear, as usual, settled beside her crib, his head resting on his paws. I ruffled his fur and whispered, “Good boy,” before heading to the kitchen to start dinner.
An hour later, Tom came home. He kissed me on the cheek, kicked off his shoes, and walked straight to Sophie’s room.
A moment later, I heard his voice, tight with confusion. “Where’s Bear?”
I frowned, wiping my hands on a dish towel. “What do you mean? He’s with Sophie.”
“No, he’s not. He’s—he’s gone.” His words hit me like a punch to the gut.
I rushed to Sophie’s room, my heart sinking as I saw Bear’s spot beside her crib was empty.
“Maybe he’s in the backyard?” Tom suggested, already moving toward the sliding door.
We searched the whole house, calling for Bear, but he was nowhere to be found. Tom ran out to search the neighborhood while I dialed every animal shelter in town, my hands shaking as I tried to explain who Bear was.
When Tom came back, his face was pale, his shoulders slumped.
“We’ll print posters tomorrow,” he said, sinking onto the sofa.
I couldn’t sleep. I stayed up, pacing the living room, my mind spinning with fear. Then, it hit me. Karen. Could she have taken him? How? I had watched her leave.
But how could she do something like that? Could she?
The next morning, Karen showed up unannounced again. My stomach churned as I opened the door to see her smiling that fake smile of hers.
I quickly told her about Bear and asked if she could watch Sophie while we put up posters.
“Of course,” she said, too casually. “And don’t worry so much about the dog. It’s probably for the best.”
Her words felt like a slap, but I forced myself to stay calm.
“We’ll be back soon,” I said, grabbing my coat.
As Tom and I spent the day posting flyers, her words echoed in my mind. “It’s probably for the best.” What did she mean by that?
When we got home, Karen was sitting in the rocking chair, humming softly as Sophie napped in her arms. She looked up at us, her smile as calm and unbothered as ever. But I couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“Where is he?” I demanded, my voice sharp. “What did you do to Bear?”
Karen blinked innocently. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do,” I growled, stepping closer, fists clenched. “Don’t play dumb, Karen.”
She sighed dramatically and set Sophie down in the crib. “Fine. Yes, I took him. Someone had to think of Sophie’s safety since clearly you won’t. You’re too blinded by emotions to make the right decisions.”
Tom stepped forward, his voice low, filled with disbelief. “Mom… please tell me you didn’t.”
Karen stood tall, chin jutted out in defiance. “I did what had to be done. He’s at a shelter now, somewhere you won’t find him. That way, you won’t bring him back here to endanger my granddaughter.”
My world spun. I didn’t even realize I was crying until Tom placed a hand on my shoulder.
“You had no right,” I whispered, voice shaking. “Bear was part of our family. Sophie loves him. You need to leave, Karen. Now. Before I do something I regret.”
For the first time, Karen looked stunned. But she straightened her back, grabbed her bag, and left without another word. The sound of the door slamming shut was like a final nail in a coffin, but it didn’t bring relief. Just silence.
That night, the house felt suffocating. Tom sat at the table, scrolling through shelters on his phone, his face a mask of frustration. I leaned against the sink, trying to keep myself together.
“She’s never going to stop, Tom,” I said, my voice tired. “She doesn’t respect me. Or us.”
Tom sighed, rubbing his neck. “I know she went too far this time, but… she’s protective. She thought she was doing the right thing.”
I turned to face him, incredulity clear on my face. “The right thing? She stole Bear! And she’s not protective, she’s controlling. And you keep making excuses for her. It’s not okay.”
Tom paused, his face softening. “She’s my mom,” he said quietly. “She just wants what’s best for Sophie.”
I felt the anger and pain rise. “It’s not just about Bear, Tom. It’s how she’s always treated me like I’m not good enough. And you let her get away with it. You’re just as guilty for playing the middle.”
Tom opened his mouth to respond, but I cut him off, stepping closer. “If you won’t stand up for me, then we’re done. I mean it. I can’t do this anymore.”
Tom’s face froze, like I’d slapped him. But then he spoke, his voice full of regret. “You’re right. I’ve been an idiot. I thought I was keeping the peace, but all I’ve done is let her ruin everything. I’m sorry.”
I stared at him, arms crossed. “So, what are you going to do about it?”
Tom hesitated for a moment, then stood tall. “No more visits. No more calls. I’ll tell her she has one chance to fix this. Unless she tells us where Bear is, we’re going no-contact.”
I nodded, feeling a little weight lift off my shoulders. Two years later, Karen never told us where Bear was, so we cut all ties with her. We moved to a neighboring city, starting fresh.
Sophie had grown into a curious toddler, full of chatter, and Tom and I were stronger than ever. But the loss of Bear was always there, a dull ache that never quite went away. His pictures hung on the walls, and Sophie would occasionally point to them, asking, “Doggy? Where doggy?”
One crisp fall afternoon, Sophie and I went to the park. Sophie toddled beside me, holding a bag of breadcrumbs for the ducks. We stopped by the pond, and she laughed as the ducks waddled and flapped.
“Look, Sophie,” I said, pointing to the kites soaring above.
But when I turned around, Sophie was gone. My heart skipped a beat, and panic flooded through me as I searched the park.
Then, I spotted her, right near the edge of the pond, reaching for a duck.
“Sophie!” I screamed, running toward her.
I was too far. My heart raced as I saw Sophie trip and stumble. But then, like a dark blur, Bear shot past me, barking loudly. My breath caught.
“Bear?” I whispered, barely able to believe my eyes.
He reached Sophie, gripping the back of her shirt gently with his teeth and pulling her back from the water’s edge.
“Bear!” I cried, my legs giving way beneath me as I fell to my knees.
Bear trotted toward me, his tail wagging so hard it made leaves swirl around. I hugged him tightly, tears streaming down my face. Sophie laughed, hugging his side.
The couple who had adopted Bear arrived, looking worried, but they stopped when they saw us.
“Cooper!” the woman called out. “Oh, thank God.”
They looked confused, but I couldn’t stop myself from crying. “Thank you for taking care of him,” I whispered. “For two years, I wondered where he was, but now I know he’s okay.”
We exchanged numbers, and they invited us to visit Bear anytime.
As Bear walked away with his new family, Sophie waved, calling out, “Bye-bye, Doggy!” It hurt to see him go, but I knew he was happy. For the first time in years, I felt peace. Bear had found his place, and so had we.
