My MIL Demanded $600 for Walking & Feeding Our Dog While I Was in Labor – I Agreed, but Only on One Condition

When I returned home from the hospital with my newborn, I noticed a note sitting on the kitchen counter. Assuming it was a heartfelt message from my mother-in-law, I picked it up eagerly. However, instead of warm wishes, I found a $600 bill for taking care of our golden retriever, Rich, while I was in labor. My husband assured me he’d take care of it, but I had a different idea.

A few days before my due date, I was stretched out on the couch, dealing with a dull ache in my lower back that gradually sharpened with each passing moment. Rich, my loyal golden retriever, rested beside me, his head nestled against my leg as if he sensed my discomfort. Absentmindedly stroking his fur, I called out to my husband, Jake, who was in the kitchen assembling a sandwich.

“Jake, we need to figure out where Rich will stay while we’re at the hospital,” I reminded him. He strolled over, sandwich in hand, pressed a kiss to my forehead, and said nonchalantly, “Don’t worry about it. Mom adores Rich—she’ll take care of everything.” His laid-back demeanor was one of the reasons I loved him, but in situations like these, it could drive me absolutely insane.

Later that evening, Jake phoned his mother, Abigail, asking if she could look after Rich while we were gone. Without hesitation, she agreed, cheerfully assuring him it wouldn’t be a problem. That was that—or so I believed.

The following morning, with our bags packed, we dropped Rich off at Abigail’s place. As we prepared to leave, she beamed at us and waved. “Go welcome my grandchild into the world—I’ll take wonderful care of him!” she assured us. Despite her enthusiasm, I had an inkling she wasn’t thrilled about being excluded from the hospital. Even so, I appreciated her willingness to step in.

Once we arrived at the hospital, things escalated quicker than I had expected. My water broke almost immediately, kicking off a labor that was nothing short of excruciating. Hours of gripping the bed rails, enduring relentless contractions, and watching Jake attempt (and fail) to stay calm left me completely drained. But the moment they placed my son in my arms, every ounce of pain disappeared. Jake and I wept like children, overwhelmed by the sheer perfection of the tiny life we had created.

Three days later, we were discharged. Jake called Abigail to thank her and let her know we were on our way home. She graciously responded that she’d give us some time to settle in before stopping by to meet the baby. I was touched by her thoughtfulness and eager to see Rich’s reaction to his new baby brother.

As I stepped into the kitchen, my eyes landed on a folded piece of paper left on the table. Expecting a warm welcome-home note, I picked it up with a smile. However, when I unfolded it, my expression changed.

“You owe me $600 for feeding and walking Rich. My time isn’t free. Bank details are listed below.”

For a moment, I thought I had misunderstood. But no—Abigail was dead serious. She had charged us for watching our dog, despite never mentioning payment beforehand. Stunned, I waved the note in the air, calling Jake into the kitchen. He sighed, rubbing his temples. “I’ll talk to her,” he mumbled.

But I had other plans. “No need,” I said, an idea already brewing.

A week later, Abigail arrived to meet her grandson. She doted on him, showering him with affection, but as soon as she passed him back to me, she got straight to business. With an overly sweet smile, she asked, “So, when should I expect my payment?”

Returning her smile, I said smoothly, “Of course, Abigail. I’ll pay you—on one condition.”

I walked to the desk, retrieved a folder, and slid it toward her. “Since we’re putting a price on favors now, it’s only fair we do the same,” I explained. Inside the folder was a meticulous invoice detailing every act of generosity Jake and I had extended to her over the years: helping her move ($800), covering her car repairs ($1,200), and even babysitting her neighbor’s kids ($600).

As she flipped through the pages, her face turned ghostly pale. “This is absurd!” she sputtered. “You don’t charge family for things like this!”

Lifting an eyebrow, I countered, “Exactly. That’s what I thought.”

She attempted to argue but ultimately stormed out, her cheeks burning with frustration. Jake, who had been silently observing the showdown, chuckled as he wrapped an arm around me. “Remind me never to get on your bad side,” he teased.

I laughed, settling onto the couch with our baby, while Rich curled up at my feet.

Abigail might not have learned her lesson, but one thing was certain—she wouldn’t be getting that $600 anytime soon. And if she dared to bring it up again? Well, that folder was still sitting on my desk, ready and waiting. Let her try me.