From a post boyfriend dropped the ultimatum on me last night while I was feeding the dogs: "It's either me or them. I can't do this anymore." I just stood there holding Shadow's food bowl, watching my three rescues waiting patiently for dinner, and felt my heart crack in half. "They're just dogs," he said. "You care more about them than you do about us." Maybe he's right - I did spend three weekends building custom bunk beds for them (took me forever and more trips to Home Depot than I care to admit). I did convert our spare room into their space. And yes, I do plan my entire schedule around their feeding times and anxiety medications. But here's what he doesn't understand: Bruno was found in a dumpster with cigarette burns. Bella spent two years chained outside in all weather until her paws were permanently damaged. Shadow still won't let men near him after whatever hell he went through. I promised each of them they'd never be abandoned again. My sister thinks I'm insane. "You're choosing dogs over a relationship? You'll die alone surrounded by animals." Even my mom suggested I rehome them. Everyone acts like I'm throwing my life away, but when I went through my divorce, when I couldn't get out of bed from depression, these three were the only reason I kept going. I know what I should do. I know what makes logical sense. But how do I look at Shadow hiding under his special blanket and tell him that after everything, he's still not worth keeping? How is that not the ultimate betrayal?

Dancers at Trump’s Halloween party as people begin losing food stamps under his administration

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