I’m Sam, and after a terrible crash, my dog Cooper was my strength, always loyal. When my girlfriend left me, she took Cooper, though she never loved him. The police couldn’t act, but my sharp move ensured she’d never forget her mistake.
The accident flipped my life. One minute, I’m driving, singing off-key; the next, I’m in a hospital, wired to machines. Doctors spoke of “fractures” and “therapy,” but it felt like chaos. Those early weeks were hell. My girlfriend, Megan, visited daily, snapping photos, but her focus was her phone. Pain meds fogged my mind, but her distance hurt more. Home again, Cooper, our shaggy shelter dog, greeted me with pure joy. He never left me, his warmth soothing my painful nights, his steady eyes a beacon of hope.
Cooper was my hero. Megan tried helping, bringing tea and pillows, but soon got irritated. “Does Cooper need to be so close?” she’d complain, flicking at his fur. “He’s my support,” I’d say, and she’d sigh. As Megan drifted, Cooper stayed true, watching me during showers, nudging me from nightmares. The breakup came as I started moving again. “I need freedom,” Megan said, but her ex was clearly back. I didn’t fight until she said, “I’m taking Cooper.” I laughed. She’d hated his mess, never cared for him. “He’s mine,” I said. She smirked, “We got him together. He’s perfect for my feed.” I snapped, “He’s not a prop, Megan!”
She stormed off, but her texts flooded in: “Give me MY dog!” “My fans love Cooper!” I ignored her. Cooper was mine—I trained him, fed him, held him through storms. But while I was at therapy, Megan snuck in, avoiding my cameras’ view but not their audio. “Come, boy,” her voice rang out. My heart sank. The police shrugged, citing our old lease as a “civil issue.” At her parents’ house, Cooper’s barks were met with a slammed door. Time for action. Our joint savings, mostly my money, was her goal. I shifted it all to a crypto wallet, out of her reach.
Megan texted fast, “WHERE’S MY MONEY?” I replied, “Bring Cooper, or it’s gone.” She raged, but next day, she appeared at my gate, silently handing over Cooper’s leash. Cooper leaped to me, overjoyed. “Just a dog,” she muttered, leaving. I grinned, petting him. “And you’re just my ex.” Later, I texted, “Market’s down. Money’s gone.” A lie—the funds were safe—but her loss felt just. Petty? Sure. Worth it? Cooper’s nuzzled against me, content. His devotion earned his spot; Megan lost hers treating him like a photo op. Money rebounds, but trust doesn’t. She learned that the hard way.
