22December
Tonight the streets outside my flat in Camden are lit with soft yellow glow, the kind that makes you forget whether its truly night or day. I sit by the window, thoughts drifting like the fog over the Thames. I have a roof over my head, a steady job as a paramedic, and a modest life that many would call comfortable. Yet, when I look at the empty space beside me, I cant help but wonder why love seems to have slipped through my fingers while everyone elses lives march onmarried friends with babbling toddlers, anniversaries marked with champagne.
My parents both passed away before I turned thirty; one after the other. I was taken in by my grandmother, who always insisted I become a nurse. I did finish school, applied to medical school but didnt get a place, so I enrolled in a nursing college instead and now spend twelvehour shifts on an ambulance. Grandad moved into a suburban bungalow years ago so I could have a space of my own, but even here the silence feels heavy.
When I was a child I dreamed of having both a cat and a dog, but Mum was allergic to fur. I learned that the hard way the day I brought home a fluffy kitten; the moment she opened the door, her asthma flared and I had to whisk the poor thing away to Nanas house.
After my parents died, a scruffy tomcat I named Tiddles showed up near a rubbish bin. I longed for a dog, but Nana was nervous about the responsibility. Instead, over the years a motley crew of five animals has become my constant companions.
Bullet, a wiry terrier I rescued from a supermarket car park, was a skeletal thing shivering in the cold. I slipped her into my coat pocket and hurried home. Shes fast as a jet, which is how she earned her nickname, and she immediately befriended Tiddles.
A few weeks later a little dachshund named Muffin appeared at my door. Her previous owners moved into a new flat and, fearing shed chew their fresh furniture, abandoned her in the courtyard. She spent a week whining outside, trying to slip into the warm entrance hall, until a local dogwalker told me her story. I took her in, wrapped a soft knitted scarf around her chilly ears, and she settled in as the perfect house dogcalm, sensible and tidy, much like a proper lady.
Early one morning, hurried for a night shift, I stepped out of the stairwell and a snowcovered ball of fur rolled into my path, yelping for warmth. It was a stray cat, gaunt and trembling. I fed her two cheeseandham sandwiches, left a note on the wall of the lobby: Please dont shoo her away. Ill pick her up after my shift. Emily, flat15. I named her Nora, after my own middle name, and she instantly took on an air of dignified authority. The whole pack fell in line under her, observing her strict rules for cleanliness and order, even patrolling the house at night to make sure everything stayed in place.
Later, in a park, I found a tiny kitten I called Mishka. Two crows almost snatched him, but I rescued him in time. He grew into a quiet, wellbehaved cat who never argued or scratched. All five of my former strays now live together peacefully, careful not to upset me.
I often joke with Nana that my flat is starting to look like a small zoo. She sighs and says, Oh, Emily, youve got two dogs and three catsgood luck finding a husband wholl be happy with that. I answer, Then he isnt the right man for me, isnt he?
I once dated Alex Johnson, a handsome emergencyroom doctor, for half a year. He couldnt stand any animals, and after we split I felt oddly relieved. Then Max Whitaker entered my lifetall, cheerful, a countylevel swimming champion who seemed perfect. He helped walk Bullet and Muffin, and I imagined a wedding.
But my pets sensed something wrong. Bullet snapped at Max, Muffin hid behind me and barked, and Nora hissed whenever he tried to pet her. One evening, while I was preparing dinner, I stepped onto my balcony and saw Max, his face twisted with anger, stomp on Muffin after she accidentally stepped in a mudsplattered puddle on his pristine sneakers. Bullet tried to intervene and was slapped hard with his leather leash.
The sight made my blood boil. I rushed outside, snatched the leash from Maxs smiling mouth, and snapped it around his wrists. Emily, what are you doing? It hurts! he protested. I shouted back, How dare you hurt my animals! If you cant treat them with respect, perhaps youll learn to treat me the same way. He laughed cruelly, Fine, get out of my life thenno one wants to live in a menagerie.
His words haunted me for weeks. I had convinced myself Max was my destiny, never truly seeing the darkness beneath his charming smile.
A year later, just as I was resigning myself to solitude, I met Alexander Sasha Hart, a trauma surgeon on a night shift. Hed rushed a carcrash victim into the emergency ward when our eyes met, and something electric ran through me. Id never believed in love at first sight, but his quiet confidence and the way he listened made me think perhaps I was wrong.
He called me the next evening, we began dating, and I felt a genuine connection. He seemed serious, respectful, and for the first time I considered introducing him to my household. I decided to keep the animals a secret, hoping they wouldnt ruin a potential future.
Six months passed. Sasha introduced me to his sister, Lucy, and her husband, and we even drove to his familys cottage in the Lake District. I visited his tidy onebedroom flat many times, but the more he saw my relativesthe catallergy excuses and sudden flu attacks of my familythe more suspicious he grew. I could no longer hide the truth.
One evening I gathered all my petsBullet, Muffin, Tiddles, Nora, and Mishkaand, with a heavy heart, took them to Nanas house. She scolded me, Emily, you cant start a relationship with lies. I pleaded, I cant live without them, Nana. What else am I supposed to do? She sighed, Fine, but you must visit them every day youre not on duty.
Soon after, Sasha proposed, presenting a silver amethyst heartshaped ring. I have no dowry, I laughed, but I have you and my furry family. We filed the paperwork, and the wedding day loomed, a whirlwind of dress fittings, menus, and venue tours.
On the day of the ceremony, while Sasha was sorting through a trash bin in the kitchen, a box of pet food tumbled out. Where did that come from? he asked. Never mind, I replied, steering the conversation elsewhere.
Meanwhile, Nana let Bullet and Muffin romp in the snow outside. A postman, breathless with his pension bag, hurried past, and the gate was left ajar. Nora, Tiddles, and Mishka darted out, while only the ginger cat Praline stayed indoors. The animals formed a little parade, Bullet leading, Nora keeping the line, and Muffins scarf fluttering behind her like a banner. Passersby stared as the furry procession crossed the road, laughing at the sight.
Sasha heard the commotion, opened the front door, and froze. A dachshund in a red jumper trotted in, followed by a larger dog, then a flock of cats, all covered in fresh snow and looking rather proud. What on earth is this? he blurted. I, cheeks burning, hid my face behind my coat and burst into tears. All of them are mine, I whispered. They were at Nanas.
Bullet and Muffin began barking at him, while Nora hissed warningly. You said you had no dowry, Sasha muttered, pulling on his coat. He left, the cars engine roaring away. I called Nana, trying to soothe her, not wanting to add to her worry.
The wedding never happened. I sat on the sofa, hugging my exhausted pets, feeling empty and ashamed of the lies Id told. Hours later there was a knock at the door. Sasha stood there, holding bags of expensive cat and dog food, a grin on his face. Dont close the door, Im coming in, he said. He stepped inside with a tiny dachshund in a bright red onesie. This is my dog, Nika, and this is Marigold, the cat from Lucys house. Will you let them join the crew?
Years have passed since that chaotic winter. Nana and I still reminisce about the absurdity of it all, laughing at how a simple flock of animals could change the course of two lives. Perhaps, had I not been so afraid of losing a dowry, we would have walked a different path. Yet, looking at my five loyal companions now curled around me, I wouldnt trade that for any grand wedding.
