Monica told her mother, Vivienne, that she was engaged to a new man named Zach. The older woman couldn’t believe it, mainly because he was not wealthy, so she decided to dress up as a poor woman and investigate. She couldn’t have been more shocked at the scene she found in Zach’s house.
Vivienne’s daughter, Monica, had just stormed out of her house. They had a massive argument over Monica’s announcement. She was going to marry a man named Zach. Vivienne couldn’t believe it because she had no idea her daughter had broken up with her boyfriend, Anthony.
Anthony’s family wasn’t as wealthy as Monica’s family, but they were respected in the high society of Hartford. Vivienne dreamed of his daughter marrying well and never worrying about money. However, it seemed that Monica’s new man did not come from money at all. He lived in the small town of Mystic. Moreover, he was a fisherman, and his parents worked blue-collar jobs their entire lives.
For Illustration Purposes only. | Source: Pexels
That won’t do. She can’t marry him! Vivienne thought, trying to calm her rapidly-beating heart after the fight with Monica.
“I can’t marry Anthony, Mother! He cheated on me with at least three women in just two months! Do you want me to be miserable?!” Monica had asked in tears.
“That can’t be true!” Vivienne yelled back, and that’s when Monica decided to storm out of the house.
Vivienne sat in her living room and thought about what to do. She had to fix this somehow. If Anthony was really a cheater, it made sense that Monica became attracted to someone outside their society. But what if this Zach was with her for her family’s money? Men could be gold-diggers too.
She had to check out Zach without her daughter. It had to be a scenario where he was forced to act as himself and not the version he wanted Monica to see, so she came up with a plan.
The following day, Vivienne took a taxi and arrived in Mystic, Connecticut, wearing the most horrible clothes she could find in her old boxes. She wore a stained skirt which she purposely ripped on one side and a sweater that smelled like mothballs. It was perfect. She would see Zach and observe how he acted around regular people.
Luckily, Mystic was such a small town that everyone apparently knew where Zach lived. Vivienne just asked a lady at the local grocery store, and she pointed her in the general direction.
For Illustration Purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
She reached his house, which was worse than Vivienne could’ve imagined. It looked run down and had an unkempt garden. She saw beer bottles and cigarette buds lying around as she approached the front door. Monica has never seen this house before, Vivienne thought, convinced of it. There’s no way her daughter would’ve fallen for a man who lived like this.
She wanted to run but had to get this done, so she raised her finger and rang the doorbell. A man with a gray, sweat-stained shirt answered the door. He was clearly in his 20s. This had to be Zach. He had a bottle of beer in his hand and an unshaven face.
“Yeah?” the man said.
“Oh, hello,” Vivienne began tentatively. Now that she was there, she had no idea how to talk to him or what to say to discover what kind of personality he had.
“Lady, what do you want?” the man continued irately now.
“I’m sorry. I was wondering if you could help me. I’m a bit lost,” she finally blurted. “Are you Zach?”
“Yeah, that’s me. What do you want?” Zach asked and belched. Vivienne couldn’t help looking disgusted, and he laughed.
Suddenly, a woman started yelling from inside the house. “Zach! Where did you put my lighter? You’re always losing stuff! YOU IDIOT!”
Zach turned from Vivienne and started shouting at the woman. “I’m the idiot? I’M THE IDIOT! You’re the one that loses everything as soon as it gets here. I don’t know where you put it! Don’t blame it on me!”
For Illustration Purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“I can’t believe I’m still with someone like you! I’m going to leave you tonight!” the woman screamed some more, and Vivienne heard the distinct sound of breaking glass. She raised a hand to her chest.
“THE DAY YOU LEAVE WILL BE THE BEST OF MY LIFE, CRAZY WOMAN!” Zach snapped loudly and turned back to look at Vivienne. “Look, lady. Get to the point. I’m busy.”
“That’s your girlfriend?” Vivienne breathed. It was the only thing that came to her mind after that horrible display. These people were awful.
“None of your business, old woman. Now, go away,” he bellowed and slammed the door in her face. Vivienne jumped as the door closed and couldn’t believe her daughter was actually dating that man.
This is awful. Monica was not only going to get her heart broken again, but this man was clearly abusive and dangerous to women in general. Vivienne had to stop it. But first, she had to go back to Hartford, which meant finding a taxi in this small town.
She started walking the streets and noticed the other houses around the block. They were old and tiny, just like Zach’s, but others maintained them. At least, not everyone was bad in this area. They were covered in snow this time of the year. Suddenly, a woman came out of one of the houses, saw Vivienne, and waved.
Vivienne smiled and waved back, not knowing what else to do. The woman started walking towards her. She was around her age and had the kindest smile in the world.
“Hey, there! Do you need help? Are you lost?” the woman asked.
For Illustration Purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“Oh, no. Don’t worry about it. I just need to find a taxi and go home,” Vivienne answered and tried to walk away. But the woman wouldn’t let her.
“Wait. I’m Georgia. It’s getting really cold out here, and sometimes, it’s hard to find a taxi on the main road. Come inside, and I’ll call one for you,” she suggested.
“I’m Vivienne. Nice to meet you. That’s such a kind offer, but I don’t know….”
“I insist,” the woman continued and urged Vivienne inside.
They chatted a while, and Georgia called the cab company in town. Apparently, all the drivers were busy, and none of them wanted to drive all the way to Hartford.
“Oh, dear. What should I do? I have to get to Hartford tonight,” Vivienne muttered, biting her bottom lip.
“A taxi from here to Hartford is so expensive. Are you sure? Maybe, you can stay here, and tomorrow, you can take the bus,” Georgia noted.
“Oh, it’s alright. Someone else is paying the taxi,” Vivienne lied. “It’s important for me to get home tonight.”
Just then, someone opened the front door and came in. “Hey, Ma!”
It was a handsome man in his 20s who looked remarkably like Georgia with a kind face and smile. Georgia hugged him and introduced him to Vivienne. He was visiting his mother and brought over fresh fish he had caught that day.
“Oh, boy. I meant to ask. Do you know anyone going to Hartford tonight?” Georgia asked her son after stashing the fish in the freezer.
For Illustration Purposes only. | Source: Pexels
The man stood in the middle of the living room and pursed his lips. “Oh, I don’t. Why?”
“Vivienne has to get there tonight, but none of the taxis in town want to take her,” Georgia replied.
“Well, why don’t I take her? I was thinking of going to Hartford this weekend and buying some stuff. But I guess tonight works too,” Georgia’s son offered.
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to put you out. You look tired,” Vivienne muttered, embarrassed.
“Don’t worry about it. Let’s go,” the man insisted and guided Vivienne to his car. It was an old pickup, but he assured her it worked perfectly and would get them to their destination.
They talked during the more-than-one-hour drive to Hartford, and Vivienne was pleasantly surprised by his kind demeanor. Not many people would have offered an older woman a ride just like that, and she hadn’t talked about paying him. He was a kind, hard-working man.
Well, not everyone in that town is as awful as Monica’s new boyfriend. Why couldn’t she meet a boy like this? Vivienne was lost in thought as they entered the city.
“Ma’am. Where exactly are you going? I can take you anywhere,” the man wondered.
“Oh, there’s this gated community…,” Vivienne began, giving him the directions to her area. But she told him to stop at the gates instead of leading him to her house.
For Illustration Purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“Here! Have some money for the ride. It’s what I would’ve paid the taxi,” she said, holding out some cash in her hand and opening the door with her other hand.
“No, no. I couldn’t. I was already coming here anyway,” the man rejected her offer.
Vivienne tried to insist. “Please, take it.”
“No, ma’am. I really couldn’t. I used this ride as an excuse to see my girlfriend, who lives around the area. I should thank you!” the man laughed, and Vivienne joined him.
“Well, then. I appreciate your kindness,” she finally said before getting out of the truck and waving goodbye at the young man.
Oh, I never even asked his name. Jesus, I forgot all my manners, she thought after reaching her house.
Her meeting with Monica’s horrible boyfriend had truly shaken her, but at least, she met some great people that got her home safely. Obviously, she knew that money wasn’t everything, and many average folks were great people. But her daughter had made a colossal mistake.
Why couldn’t she have picked someone like Georgia’s son? He was pretty nice, Vivienne thought as she changed out of the old clothes and into her pajamas.
For Illustration Purposes only. | Source: Pexels
Suddenly, her phone pinged with a message. It was Monica. She said that she was bringing her boyfriend for dinner tomorrow night and hoped Vivienne would be nice.
“Oh, dear. I’m going to have to break your heart tomorrow. But you definitely can’t marry that man,” she muttered out loud, looking intently at her phone.
The following night, Vivienne was worried. Her daughter’s car had just pulled into her driveway, and Zach was coming with her. She had no idea how to explain what she did yesterday and how she ended up at that man’s house. But Monica would have to see reason. That horrible man was sweaty, rude, and had a girlfriend.
There was a knock on the front door, and Vivienne breathed deeply to gather her courage. She was about to start a huge fight with that man, and Monica had to listen to her. But when the older woman opened the door, her mouth dropped. No arguments or screams came out — just a tiny squeak.
“Mom?” Monica asked, frowning at her mother.
The man standing beside her was not that sweaty Zach she had met the previous day. It was Georgia’s son!
For Illustration Purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“Ma’am?” the man asked and looked at Monica with a confused expression. “This is your mother? I gave her a ride from Mystic last night.”
“What? Mom, what were you doing at Mystic?” Monica wondered, placing her hand on her waist.
“Oh, dear. Come in! Come in! This is your boyfriend, Zach?” Vivienne inquired as she guided them inside quickly, breathing heavily. She was ecstatic.
“Yes, Mom. This is Zach. But did you meet him yesterday?” her daughter asked again, refusing to let her change the subject. They both removed their coats, and Vivienne was smiling at them with the most relieved smile in the world.
“Yes, dear. It’s a long story. Sit down…,” she told them and explained everything that happened the day before, including how Zach ended up driving her back to Hartford.
There were two people named Zach in the town of Mystic, and the lady at the store only knew one of them. The rude one. Monica found the whole story hilarious and their original fight had already been forgotten by the time Vivienne finished.
For Illustration Purposes only. | Source: Pexels
The whole night, Vivienne was so friendly to Monica’s Zach. They had dinner and enjoyed a wonderful time. Before the couple left, Vivienne told Monica that she approved and would pay for their wedding if they desired. The older woman never judged Zach for being a fisherman because he treated her daughter like a princess.
Besides, after meeting that sweaty Zach, anyone else was infinitely better.
What can we learn from this story?
- Don’t judge others based on their financial status. Money doesn’t mean anything in the end. Some horrible people have tons of money, and some of the greatest might be working paycheck to paycheck.
- Don’t assume you know what’s best for your children. Some parents think they know what would make their kids happy, but that’s not always the case.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
My Neighbor Stole My Dog, Lied to My Face, and Thought I’d Let It Go
What happened after Kristen stole my dog Charlie wasn’t just neighborhood drama. It was justice served with a side of creative revenge that had our entire town talking for months. Some might call it petty. I call it necessary.
I’ve lived in Oakwood Hills for almost twenty years now. It’s your typical small American town where everyone knows your business before you do. The kind of place where gossip spreads faster than wildfire, and having a decent neighbor is worth more than a clean credit score.
A dog standing in a neighborhood | Source: Pexels
“Morning, Sarah!” my elderly neighbor Frank called from across the street as I stepped onto my porch with my morning coffee. “Charlie behaving himself today?”
I smiled and gestured to my golden retriever lounging beside me. “As always. Best roommate I’ve ever had.”
Charlie has been my saving grace these past three years since my divorce from Tom. When your husband of 27 years decides he’s in love with his dental hygienist, a dog becomes more than a pet. Charlie became my therapist, my confidant, and my reason to get out of bed some mornings.
A golden retriever | Source: Pexels
“Mom, you talk about that dog more than you talk about me,” my son Jason jokes during our weekly calls.
He moved to Seattle after college, and while I miss him terribly, I understand. Not much happening in our sleepy town for a 26-year-old with big dreams.
A man standing outside a house | Source: Midjourney
“That’s because Charlie doesn’t forget to call his mother on her birthday,” I teased back last time.
My life was simple but content. Until Kristen moved in next door last spring.
Kristen is 38 going on 21, with a face so full of Botox it barely moves when she talks. She’s like a walking Instagram filter with a personality as authentic as a stock photo. But the worst thing about Kristen? Her magical belief that if she likes something (a handbag, a hairstyle, a man, or apparently, my dog), it automatically belongs to her.
A dog lying on a road | Source: Pexels
“He’s just gorgeous,” she’d gush every time she saw Charlie, reaching over the fence with those long, manicured nails. “I’ve always wanted a golden.”
I should have seen it coming, honestly.
One Tuesday morning, I let Charlie into my fenced backyard to do his business while I packed my lunch for work.
Ten minutes later, he was gone. Vanished.
A fenced backyard | Source: Midjourney
“Charlie?” I called, stepping onto the back porch.
Nothing.
My heart dropped to my stomach as I scanned the yard. The gate was still latched. The fence was intact. It was like he’d evaporated.
I called in sick to work and spent the day searching the neighborhood, knocking on doors, my voice growing hoarser with each “Have you seen my dog?”
A woman walking on a road | Source: Midjourney
“Don’t worry, Sarah,” my friend Diane said as she helped me post flyers around town. “He’s microchipped, right? Someone will find him.”
I posted in local Facebook groups, called shelters, drove up and down every street within a five-mile radius.
Nothing.
Three sleepless nights passed. I’d barely eaten. My son offered to drive down that weekend to help search.
Then, Thursday afternoon, I walked past Kristen’s porch on my way back from checking the shelter yet again.
There he was. Charlie.
A dog with a blue collar | Source: Midjourney
Wearing a new blue collar. Sitting beside her. Wagging his tail like she hadn’t just kidnapped him.
My blood froze in my veins.
“That’s Charlie,” I said as I stopped at the edge of her driveway.
Kristen looked up from her phone, flashing that practiced fake smile.
“Oh, hi Sarah. This is Brandon. My new rescue.”
“No, that’s Charlie. My dog. Who disappeared from my yard three days ago,” I said. “I know it’s him.”
She laughed. “You must be mistaken. My new boyfriend loves goldens, and I’ve owned a golden retriever FOR YEARS.”
At that point, Charlie perked up at the sound of my voice. His tail thumped against her porch boards.
A close-up shot of a dog’s tail | Source: Midjourney
“He recognizes me,” I pointed out, taking a step forward.
Kristen’s hand tightened on his new collar. “A lot of goldens are friendly. That doesn’t mean anything.”
I pulled out my phone with trembling fingers. “I have photos. Hundreds of them.”
She glanced at the screen, bored. “A lot of goldens look like that.”
“He has a signature birthmark behind his ear. It looks like a heart.” My voice was getting louder now. “Check behind his right ear.”
A close-up shot of a woman’s eyes | Source: Pexels
“Coincidence. Listen, Sarah, I know you miss your dog, but this is Brandon. I got him from… a friend of a friend upstate.”
That’s when it clicked. She STOLE my dog so her new boyfriend would see what a good “dog lover” she was. My Charlie was just a prop in her dating game.
I could see neighbors peeking through windows, wondering about the commotion. In a small town like ours, this would be prime gossip by dinner time.
I took a deep breath, nodded, and walked away.
I didn’t argue further. I didn’t yell. I didn’t cause a scene.
Instead, I made a plan.
That night, I called Jason and explained everything.
A woman holding her phone | Source: Pexels
“Mom, call the police!” he exclaimed.
“And say what? That my neighbor has a dog that looks like mine? Without proof, it’s my word against hers.”
“So, you’re just giving up?” He sounded disappointed.
A man talking to his mother on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“Oh no, honey. I’m just getting started.”
The next morning, I drove to Office Depot and printed flyers. Dozens of them. With a message in big bold letters.
“MISSING DOG: CHARLIE
Fluffy heart. Warm nose. Stolen by a woman with no soul.”
Then in smaller print, “Last seen on Kristen Reynolds’ porch at 42 Maple Street. If you’ve seen Charlie, please scan the QR code below.”
Yep. I added a QR code.
A flyer on a wall | Source: Midjourney
My son had helped me build a simple website the night before. It contained photos of Charlie over the years including his adoption day, him in his Halloween hot dog costume, and videos of him sleeping on my lap.
The website also had his adoption certificate with MY name clearly visible, and videos of him doing tricks to my voice commands.
And the best part was the camera footage from my neighbor across the street. It showed Kristen opening my gate, calling Charlie over, and leading him away by the collar.
Thank God for Frank and his obsession with home security.
A security camera | Source: Pexels
By noon, I’d placed flyers on every telephone pole, community board, and car windshield within a mile radius.
That evening, I went a step further.
I ordered twenty helium balloons with Charlie’s face printed on them from a shop two towns over. Rush job, cash payment.
Each balloon said, “I’m not Brandon. I’m a kidnapped dog.”
Around midnight, I tied them to her mailbox, her car, her front porch railing. By dawn, her house looked like a bizarre dog-themed party.
Balloons in front of a house | Source: Midjourney
The neighborhood group chat exploded before breakfast.
“Is that Kristen’s house with all the balloons?” Diane texted, with a photo attached.
Someone shared the website link. “OMG! You all need to see this.”
Another neighbor chimed in, “Didn’t she steal Emma’s hanging plants last spring?”
Even the PTO president Helen commented, “Bold of her to name someone else’s dog after her ex-boyfriend.”
A person using their phone | Source: Pexels
I watched from my kitchen window as Kristen stepped outside around 9 a.m., her face going pale at the sight of the balloons. Her phone must have been blowing up too.
By noon, I heard my back gate squeak. Through the window, I watched as Kristen silently led Charlie into my yard, unclipped his blue collar, and left without a word. No note. No eye contact. Just shame and silence.
The moment she disappeared, I rushed outside. Charlie came bounding across the yard, jumping up to lick my face as I fell to my knees sobbing.
A dog running | Source: Midjourney
“You’re home, baby. You’re finally home,” I whispered into his fur.
Kristen still lives next door. We pass each other sometimes at the mailbox or in the grocery store. But now, people whisper when she walks by. No one asks her to dog-sit. Or plant-sit. Or trust-sit anything ever again.
After everything that happened, I added one last update to the website before taking it down. I uploaded a picture of Charlie with a simple yet strong message, “Charlie is home. Kristen is not welcome to visit.”
A woman using her laptop | Source: Pexels
I learned something powerful through all this.
Some people think kindness is weakness. They think that because you’re polite or older or live alone, you won’t stand up for yourself. But there’s a fire in me that motherhood lit decades ago, and it still burns bright when someone threatens what I love.
Don’t underestimate a woman with time on her hands, love in her heart, and righteous anger in her soul. We don’t just get even. We get creative.
A dog sleeping | Source: Pexels
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