I love her.

I love her so so so much, I want to spend every waking moment with her. Even when she is angry and doesn’t accept my kisses and swats me away, I love her. Even when she is gone for hours on end, the house growing dark and the creaks and groans of the old floorboards keeping me awake, I never blame her when she finally arrives, a stink of something sharp on her breath, her eyes closing before she can provide any attention to me. She sometimes falls asleep without remembering I haven’t eaten since yesterday, the container holding my food far out of my reach. Despite this, I know she will feed me tomorrow, maybe a little extra because she feels bad for her forgetfulness.

When I was a baby, she tells me, I was very very bad. I went to the bathroom inside, even though she had shown me again and again where to go outside. Sometimes, I’d fall asleep in her oh so comfortable bed- so soft and warm compared to mine on the floor- and it would get stinky from me- maybe because I don’t get a bath more than once a month- and she would get mad and lock me in the cage. Once, she bought a big fancy necklace for me, but it hurt sometimes when I got too loud so I stopped talking altogether. I still wear it but I’m careful to be very very quiet.

I used to have a friend here, and he was a little older than me and had been with her longer. He told me that he knows she used to have another companion before him, but he had never met them- he just knew she did because of the pictures around the house, and because sometimes we would find their hair in the corners of the couch. I wonder what happened to this other one? My friend said she is lonely, and keeps us for company, and gets another when the previous one gets too old. She uses the older one to train the younger one, as she did with us- my friend was the one who made sure I knew that she gets happy when we lick her feet and act silly and playful- keeping her happy is very important. It is the most important thing. If she gets upset, we don’t get fed. If she get’s upset, we are yelled at and hurt. We sometimes don’t get to go outside for days when she is too sad. I adore her and would never want to let her be sad.

My friend didn’t love her as much as I do though- one time, he said we are treated like dogs. Maybe worse than dogs. I wouldn’t know, I’ve never met a dog, but I think I've seen one in one of the picture books my friend gave me. I have a feeling Mommy would love one though.