Chapter 8 - MAX WOULD NOT LEAVE HERMom returned home six months after the cage incident.
Max went with her.
Technically, he was my dog.
He disagreed.
The moment Mom moved into her house, Max planted himself beside her bed and refused to leave.
“He chose me.”
“He thinks you drop food.”
“Same thing.”
She laughed.
That laugh mattered.
For months after the incident, Mom could not look at metal pet crates.
She avoided the garage at my house.
Then one afternoon, I found her standing beside Max’s travel crate.
She stared at it.
I waited.
“You okay?”
“No.”
Honest.
Then she opened the crate door.
Max walked inside expecting a treat.
Mom laughed.
“Idiot.”
He wagged his tail.
She closed the door halfway.
Then opened it immediately.
Small action.
Huge.
She did not need to prove anything.
But she wanted the cage to become an object again.
Not a memory with bars.
Eventually, she donated the large metal cage from our property to an animal rescue.
I asked if she wanted it destroyed.
“No.”
“Why?”
“It didn’t do anything.”
That was Mom.
The cage was metal.
May you like
Claire made it cruel.
People mattered more than objects.
