Dear Chuckles, Part 9

Dear Chuckles,

So guess what I found stuck under the TV stand in the bedroom? One more tennis ball. Yep, another one. I'm thinking this is the last one though, so I labeled it and will keep in it your honor. One of my friends said that this is your way of sending me love. I like that. Thank you, boy. I love you too.

That's right, 101.

In other news, I've started called Trixie CatDog because she's been doing many more things lately more suited to a dog than a cat. She always mimicked you, but now it's like she's trying to fill the void you left. She runs to the door to greet us when we come home now. She wants tons of belly rubs. She'll throw herself on our feet upside down so we rub her belly. It's eerily almost exactly what you would do. She begs for dinner at 8pm on the dot every single night. She follows me everywhere, as you used to. And she attempts to police me at night when my insomnia is keeping me awake, just like you used to. If she thinks it's too late, she meows and paws at me until I give in and go to bed, and then she follows me into the bedroom and cuddles with me. She misses you, boy.

I miss you, too. I know I'll always miss you.

Love,
Mommy