The Dog Who Carried Grandma’s Secret
When Grandma passed away, my relatives rushed to her house like vultures to a carcass. They weren’t there for memories, or to say goodbye. They wanted one thing — her money.
I was the only one who didn’t care about that. Instead, I picked up her old dog, Berta, and took her home. At the time, I had no idea that Grandma’s beloved dog carried something far more valuable than anyone could imagine — a secret that would soon change everything.
To bring my family together, there had to be either money or death involved. Sadly, that day, it was both.
I stood at the cemetery, the wind cold against my face, watching as Grandma’s coffin was lowered into the earth. Everyone around me wore black, but no one seemed truly sad.
I held Berta’s leash tightly. The old dog whined softly and pulled toward the grave, as if she wanted to follow Grandma down.
“Easy, girl,” I whispered, kneeling to stroke her soft gray fur.
Berta had been Grandma’s most loyal friend for years. Grandma used to say, “Berta listens better than any person ever did.” She wasn’t wrong.
Grandma was a remarkable woman — strong, stubborn, and fiercely independent. She had built her fortune from nothing, but she had a strange rule: she never gave her children or grandchildren any money.
Instead, she paid for everyone’s education, telling us, “You should rise on your own, like I did.”
That’s why no one in my family had spoken to her for years. Until now.
At the funeral, I looked around at them — my mom, my uncle Jack, my aunt Florence, and their kids. They all wore fake sad faces, but I knew exactly why they were there.
Money.
They hoped that even if Grandma had been strict while alive, she might’ve softened before she died and left them something big. But knowing Grandma, things were never that simple.
For the last six months of her life, I had moved into Grandma’s house to take care of her. It was hard — juggling nursing shifts at the hospital and her daily needs — but I never regretted it.
She’d always say, “Meredith, you’re the only one who doesn’t complain. I like that about you.”
Still, she didn’t make things easy. I remember once, after my car broke down, I showed her the repair bill. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to pay for this,” I sighed.
She only looked at me and said, “You’re a strong girl, Meredith. You’ll manage.”
That was Grandma — tough love till the very end.
After the funeral, we all drove to Grandma’s house for the reading of her will. I already knew my family would act like wild animals the moment money was mentioned, so I had packed my things, expecting they’d kick me out soon anyway.
The tension was thick. No one talked, just exchanged cold, hateful glances. Aunt Florence broke the silence first.
“Meredith,” she said, in her usual condescending tone, “remind me, what kind of doctor are you?”
“I’m a nurse,” I replied simply.
Her eyebrows shot up. “A nurse?”
Uncle Jack snorted. “You’ll never make any money that way. Look at Tom! He owns a car company. And Alice here,” he said, pointing at my cousin who looked ready to pose for a magazine cover, “runs beauty salons all over town.”
I smiled faintly. “I help people. That’s enough for me.”
My mother, arms crossed, muttered under her breath, “I can’t believe I gave birth to her.”
That stung, though I was used to it. We barely spoke — just three times a year.
Then the doorbell rang. Everyone stared at the door but no one moved.
I stood up and answered it. Mr. Johnson, Grandma’s lawyer, stood there with his briefcase.
He nodded politely. “Good afternoon. I’m here regarding Cassandra’s will.”
I led him into the living room. He remained standing, his face unreadable. “This won’t take long,” he said.
“What do you mean?” Mom asked, already impatient. “Where’s the will?”
“She must have left something,” Uncle Jack added sharply.
Mr. Johnson glanced at them and said, “Cassandra decided not to leave any inheritance to her immediate family.”
For a moment, the room was silent — and then chaos erupted.
“What?!” Mom screamed. “That’s impossible!”
“Who gets the money then?!” Uncle Jack demanded.
“I can’t share that information,” the lawyer replied firmly. “But I do ask all of you to leave this property immediately.”
No one moved.
“That old witch!” Uncle Jack shouted. “Even after death, she mocks us!”
“Don’t talk about her like that,” I snapped. “Grandma loved you all — she just wanted us to stand on our own feet.”
“Ha! She was a witch when she lived and still is now,” Mom spat.
At that moment, Berta barked loudly, startling everyone.
“Oh right,” Aunt Florence sneered, “what are we going to do with that mutt?”
“Put her down,” Mom said coldly.
“I agree,” Uncle Jack added. “She’s ancient anyway.”
I felt my stomach twist. “You can’t put her down!” I shouted.
“And what do you suggest, Meredith?” Mom asked, folding her arms. “Leave her on the street?”
“Grandma loved Berta,” I said softly. “Someone has to take her.”
The room filled with laughter.
“If you want her so bad, take her,” Mom said mockingly. “We don’t need that dog.”
“I can’t,” I whispered. “My landlord doesn’t allow pets.”
“Then it’s settled,” Uncle Jack said. “We’ll put her down.”
I turned desperately to my cousins. “Tom? Alice? Please.”
Tom waved me off. Alice wrinkled her nose. “No chance. She probably has fleas.”
I clenched my fists. “Fine,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’ll take her.”
Mr. Johnson cleared his throat. “Please leave now. You have no right to be here anymore,” he said sternly.
Mom pointed a trembling finger at him. “And who does?!”
He didn’t answer — just stared until everyone grudgingly left.
I packed Berta’s things, helped her into my old car, and drove home.
Thankfully, my landlord allowed me to keep her — for an extra rent fee, of course. But I didn’t care.
Berta missed Grandma terribly. She would often sit by the window, whining softly at night. I missed her too — her wisdom, her presence, even her scolding.
A few days later, after a long night shift, someone banged on my door.
When I opened it, my mother stood there, her eyes wild.
“Mom?” I asked cautiously. “What are you doing here?”
“I know you have it!” she shouted.
“What?”
“Don’t play dumb! I know you inherited everything from your grandmother!”
I froze. “All I inherited was Berta,” I said honestly.
“Berta? The dog?!”
“Yes.”
“Don’t lie to me!” she screamed. “You lived with her! You were her favorite! She left it all to you, didn’t she?!”
I shook my head. “Grandma didn’t give me money. Not to anyone.”
“Liar!” she hissed. “You owe me that money! I’m your mother!”
“Mom, I swear—”
But she cut me off. “We’ll see about that, witch!” she spat before storming away.
I collapsed onto the floor, tears streaming down my face. Berta waddled over and pressed her head into my lap.
As I stroked her fur, something shiny on her collar caught my eye.
I unclipped it and turned it over — an engraved address and the number 153.
Curious, I searched the address on my phone. It pointed to the train station.
Locker 153.
Then I noticed the small tag could open. Inside, a tiny key.
My heart pounded. I grabbed my coat and drove straight to the station.
Locker 153 was old and scratched. My hands trembled as I inserted the key — it turned smoothly.
Inside was a small folder labeled “For Meredith.”
I opened it and found a handwritten note and several documents.
The note read:
My dear Meredith,
I want everything I earned in my life to go to a person with a pure heart — someone who will not exploit others.
Whoever takes care of Berta after I’m gone will inherit all that I have.
I’m certain that person will be you. You are the only one who still shows kindness in this family.
With love, Grandma.
Tears filled my eyes. She had trusted me — believed in me.
I barely had time to take a breath before a voice behind me shouted, “Aha! I knew you were hiding something!”
I spun around. My mother stood there, her eyes blazing.
“I swear I didn’t know,” I said.
“She really did leave it all to you,” Uncle Jack said, stepping out from behind her.
“What are you both doing here?!” I cried.
Uncle Jack smirked. “You didn’t think you could fool us, did you? I hired a private detective to follow you.”
“Now be a good girl,” he said, stepping closer, “and hand over that will.”
“No!” Mom shouted. “She’s my daughter. She’ll give it to me!”
Before I could answer, a calm voice interrupted.
“Meredith will give it to no one,” said Mr. Johnson, appearing in the doorway.
“Where did you come from?!” Uncle Jack barked.
“My phone tracker alerted me when the locker opened,” Mr. Johnson explained. “I expected this might happen.”
Mom pointed at me, shouting, “I have rights! I’m her mother!”
Mr. Johnson shook his head. “Cassandra’s estate goes to whoever took care of Berta — not you.”
“I’ll take that stupid dog then!” Uncle Jack yelled.
“It’s too late,” Mr. Johnson said coldly. “Meredith took her without knowing anything about the inheritance. That was Cassandra’s test.”
“If either of you try to take this further,” he added firmly, “you’ll deal with me and the police.”
Silence filled the station. My hands were shaking, but I clutched the folder tight.
“Come on, Meredith,” Mr. Johnson said softly. “Let’s go.”
As we walked back to my car, I finally asked, “Why did Grandma do this? Why make everyone fight?”
Mr. Johnson smiled faintly. “She didn’t want to make anyone fight. She wanted her money to go to someone who would use it for good.”
I nodded, my eyes stinging. “Then I’ll donate most of it to the hospital — to help people like she helped me.”
Mr. Johnson looked at me kindly. “That’s your choice now. She trusted you for a reason.”
I glanced at Berta sitting in the back seat, her tail wagging gently.
I smiled through my tears. “Don’t worry, Grandma,” I whispered. “I’ll take good care of everything — especially her.”