Dear CeeceeI don't know if you will ever read this—I send it out there hoping that where you are now has a computer or that someone who knows you has a computer and will read this and get in touch with you. I just hope, even though it's not likely you'll ever see this because, let's face it, bitches are not very smart and especially dumb when it comes to technological things but—who knows?—maybe you're nearly as smart as me because you seemed smart when I knew you.
Anyhoo...
It has been two years since we were were born in that horrible puppy mill, two years since we were taken away from our mother, two years since our siblings—Ay-ay, Beebee, and Ee-Ee, died from cold and murder and left just you and me: JR-14-22-09-C and JR-14-22-09-D (for Jack Russell from sire 14, dame 22, ninth litter for the dame, puppies C—3rd—and D—4th). Do you remember any of this? Do you remember the pet shop we were taken to? Do you remember the time we spent in the cage, just cuddling up to each other, and then the time when I was sold and our goodbye? I hope you don't because these are not good things.
But I hope you remember me. I hope you remember me because, lately, I've been remembering you and thinking of you a lot. The reason I think of you is because one of the people I live with now, Skeeter, is on Facebook and suddenly, out of the blue, a nephew of his contacted him through Facebook and through that nephew Skeeter has contacted several other members of his family he hasn't seen or talked to in decades. All of a sudden, Skeeter has people in his life who are blood. And that made me think of you, Ceecee, my sister.
(Oh! What is Facebook? I hear you asking. Well, it's a computer thing where a bunch of narcissists put up their pictures and tell other narcissists—who very rarely care about anything not on their own page—what they think and what they are doing. Sometimes it's something really profound like, "I like Carvel Ice Cream cakes!" and other times they'll put up an article from a newspaper or magazine they have read that is really, really important like "The stars of True Blood are MARRIED!!!!!!!!!" What you have to understand, dear Ceece, is that humans are assholes but they are quite delighted with their assholery and Facebook is their way of expressing that delight! Sort of like an electronic gay pride parade without all the sodomy.)
Anyhoo...
I don't know what your new people are like. When I came here, to Skeeter and Boo-Boo, they checked the paper every day to make sure no one was looking for me (as I was a stray when I was picked up by the SPCA), but they didn't find anything about me. They did find that someone was looking for a white Jack Russell with a brown ear (like mine) but a female and I thought immediately that you had also hit the streets. If that was you, I hope someone good took you in. I hope they are being kind to you.
On my side, well...
I live with two knob jockeys who are actually decent enough—they are too old to perform their unnatural acts around me; they have settled down into a nice Old Nellie routine that can be pleasant and lazy. They don't get too hysterical when I pee in the house, so I know they will never get rid of me. They also never hit me, though one of them picks me up by the scruff of my neck, when he thinks I've been bad, and tosses me onto my own bed. That's the extent of it. I talk to one of them and he can be quite a cunt and he's very vulgar, I find. For a while I was getting a little tubby, because of all the idleness, but then Boo-Boo started to exercise with me and I am again the tight, svelte little doggie you knew at the pet shop. So you would recognize me.
But mostly, I would so recognize you, sweet Ceecee. I remember how sweet your puppy breath smelled when you licked inside my ears to comfort me when the pet shop closed and everything was dark. I remember how you used to let me nuzzle up to your neck when it was so, so cold in the puppy mill. I remember how you would say to me, "Sleep, little one, sleep; we'll be fine, we'll be out of here someday, we'll be warm and well-fed. Sleep little brother, sleep." And I would sleep even though the air was so icy and the fear in that place was a thick odor on every wintry gust.
I don't know if you will ever read this. I don't know if I will ever hear from you and ever see you again. But now, our second birthdays just passed, I think of you and want to tell you that you are in my heart. You are my family.
You are home.
Much, much love
Dee (aka: Léo)
PS: Here's a story that explains my relationship with The Boys, as I call them: yesterday I peed on the foot-rest of Skeeter's La-Z-Boy and he got so mad that he said, "If you ever lift your leg in this house again, I'm going to rip it off and you'll be one of those pathetic three-legged dogs." He'll never do that because, in his heart of hearts, he loves me and he also knows that even a three-legged dog could rip his balls off when he was asleep.
No comments:
Post a Comment