Dear Chuckles,
Today was the first time I left the house since that day, which means it was also the first time I've ever come home and you haven't greeted me. Let me tell you something, Puppyface, it fucking sucked. Alot. I think Trixie was trying to be you, because she ran to the door to greet and meow at me. Don't tell her, but it just wasn't the same.
I could see our whole routine play out in my head. You trotting up to greet me, wagging furiously, SO happy to see me though I'd only been gone a little while. Me asking if you were a good boy, and you running to the kitchen doorway to show me that you were indeed a good boy, with that huge happy smile on your face, tongue hanging out. Me trying to push past you to get the grocery bags into the kitchen, you thinking it was a game of some kind and blocking the doorway. Me taking my coat off while you stuck your nose into every bag to see if there was something for you. You drinking about a gallon of water and then proceeding to slobber it all over the kitchen as you watched me put the groceries away, not-so-patiently waiting to see if something for you would appear from one of the bags. Me finishing up and giving you a cookie and telling you what a good boy you were for waiting. And then you running to the door, yapping to go out. The memories brought out a small smile through the tears, but the tears were still there.
I miss our routines, and I miss you. So very much. I'd give anything to hear your claws clicking down the hallway again.
Love,
Mommy
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