Mitch never meant to get another dog, 'Not fair at my age!' But then Flo happened. In rescuing her, he somehow rescued himself. Adrift after his wife died, this soft-eyed hound found her way onto his sofa and anchored him to this life.
She was the reason for yesterday's argument.

'So then Mitch, you gonna tell me what's bothering you today?' Mary asked above the clatter of breakfast. Mary was the no-nonsense carer with a heart of gold.
Mitch eased into his chair, old bones creaking, ready to receive his breakfast tray. Flo sat at his feet, waiting for her signal. He patted her space and she stepped daintily up beside him, slender legs pacing a circle, then sinking down with a contented grunt, long black nose pointing toward the toast. Their morning routine hadn't changed much for years.
'It's Tracy, she came round yesterday.' Mitch admitted.
'Your daughter? That's good isn't it? You've always loved her visits?' Mary settled opposite, sipping her tea.

He loved her visits, loved that girl until his heart burst. Smitten since the moment the squirming bundle was placed in his hands, blue eyes stared up at him. He'd been her hero, her confidant, the one she'd always run to with every worry and scraped knee. He was still so proud of her, but recently a wall had formed between them. He'd let her down and that guilt towered heavily between them. He hadn't been there for her when his wife died. Truth was he couldn't at the time, they'd both been lost. But she'd lost her mother. She'd needed him and he'd failed. He couldn't go back and he couldn't move forward from the guilt.

'She wants me to "go into a home"...' Lingering anger from yesterday's run-in crept into his voice. 'But I can't... Can't leave Flo.' His breath caught, panic at the mere thought of losing his Flo. The hot buttered toast in his hand, suddenly a concrete slab, impossible to eat. He handed it over, Flo eagerly accepted the oversized treat, spraying crumbs and jam across the floor.
'It's impossible, there's no homes that'll take both of us, and I can't ... let her down.' Sudden tears and snot dripped off his nose settling into his beard. He didn't care. 'Can't abandon her, and I can't live without her.' Waves of emotion had plagued him all night, fear, anger, and shame at his harsh words with his daughter. He reached for Flo, for her soft steadying comfort.
Mary studied her teacup. 'Don't suppose Tracy could take her?' She asked gently, breaking the silence.
'Tracy? No... Well she could,' Mitch admitted sadly 'It's her husband, Bill, that don't like dogs, all pets really.' He swiped at the snot, and sniffed. 'Say's they're "smelly and expensive"...'
Flo picked that moment to let rip. The putrid smell rose up unashamed between them.
'Eugh! Not ladylike Flo! Might have a point about the smell!' Mary coughed, fanning furiously.
Mitch chuckled, the mood broken. 'That's my favourite bit of the visit, she farted right at him! He ran out, retching!'

Bill might be the bee's knees in business worlds, but the man had no stomach for real-life grit. Mitch wished Bill, thought of his girl's feelings a little more often. But then he could talk, her own Father making life more difficult for her.

'How did you leave it?' Mary nodded meaningfully at his breakfast. 'Eat, it'll get cold.'
'She stormed out, I might have said some words I shouldn't ...' that shame was eating away at him, he had to make it right.
'Mmm!' Mary nodded for him to continue.
He sipped his cooling tea.

Yesterday Mitch watched helplessly as Tracy stormed out. Feelings got the better of him, of both of them. No excuse of course, but he knew neither of them had been prepared to listen.

A wet nose nudged him, breaking him from his rumination. Instinctively he reached for Flo, feeling her soft ears. No, he couldn't leave his hound. That would kill him. Every breath was such an effort to keep going now. His tired heart longed to join his wife. It was only these regular nudges from a wet nose, those soft brown eyes that gave him the feeble strength to battle another day, swallow another tablet without it, he knew he couldn't go on for long.

This was like one of those maths problems from his teaching days. Give up Flo = give up life. Break it down into logical equations. Give up life = Abandon Tracy, Orphan her. Mitch felt the wave of panic rise up again, he clung on to Flo as he rode it. How to cause them both least pain. At what point does the inequality flip around? When is pain caused by living greater than pain caused by dying?

'Look, I'm not sure if this helps, but I've got a sofa Flo can fart on to her heart's content. She needn't be abandoned if it comes to it.' Mary smiled, an honest offer, she'd always had a soft spot for Flo.
'You'd like that, hey? Wouldn't you old girl?' Mitch asked Flo, she responded by twisting over, exposing her belly to be rubbed. Mitch complied.

Part of the problem solved, but that still left Tracy. If she put him in a home without Flo, he wouldn't survive long. It would break Tracy's heart if she ever worked out that she'd shortened his life. How long could he find the strength to carry on each day? Long enough to fool Tracy so she doesn't spot the connection and feel huge guilt? Ideally, he'd hang on until Flo died, then he could give up gently without Tracy feeling any guilt at all. He had to talk to her about yesterday, make it right, but there were no easy solutions here. Death would catch up. Grief and pain, inevitable. Just had to try and protect his girl for a little bit more.

A/N, this was the last Open University Creative writing assignment, pulling together all the editing and characterisation lessons they had taught us.  I would recommend the course, 8-weeks submitting work for your peers comment on as you learn.