Day 366
Dearest Piper,
Hey you, my baby, it’s me Mommy.
I know, if I was any more sane, you can’t hear me.
But I just know you are listening.
Hey you, you naughty girl.
You probably can’t count days like Mommy can, but it’s been 365 days since you ran away. That’s like one human year.
Do you know how long that is?
Do you know how much worry one human year entails?
You’re officially non-existent.
While Mommy was away, your grandpa gave up your license.
That’s as good as giving up your citizenship, wiping out your identification, your whole life.
That’s how it is, I suppose, with everyone else in this world.
No one believes in you anymore, baby.
Everyone tells me, you’re gone.
They wouldn’t use the word “forever”, but I know that’s what they think.
But I want to tell you, Piper.
You are always here.
As long as Mommy is still alive, as long as I still have my existence in this world, you are always alive too.
You know Mommy never kids you.
I can still smell you. Oh yeah, trust me. That smell of yours, I can never mistake. I can never forget.
I can still feel you. That fake schnauzie fur of yours that really looks more dyed-brown than salt-n-pepper. That short, rough hair that can’t even mask the bad, flaky skin beneath it.
I can still see you. Jumping on me when I step into the old house. Lying on me when I get ready into sleep mode.
I can just see you from the corner of my eye wherever I am in the house.
I can see you looking at me with your big sad puppy eyes whenever I’m getting out of the door.
Yeah, puppy eyes at the grand age of 9 years. You don’t even need no fucking eye cream. Lucky you.
Mommy is about to cry now, just looking at your pictures, just trying to write this, just thinking about you.
But Mommy doesn’t want to be like this.
You may be somewhere out there now tonight, lying on someone else’s chest.
It’s been 365 days. One human year.
That’s like one decade of your dog life.
I just hope while you’re lying on someone else’s chest, or anywhere else in this world, you never forget about Mommy too.
I hope one fine day, if I do have the good fortune again, when we bump into each other again on the street, you will still remember Mommy.
You will still jump up upon me.
I will never complain about your drool, I will never complain about your pee.
I love you, Piper. Always.
Know that, no matter who comes into my life after, there will never ever be another you.
You sleep well tonight, and every night, baby.
And I hope you continue to eat well too.
Love you always,
Mommy
