My dearest Timi baby,
While cleaning today, I saw those claw marks you left on the hallway tiles when you first came home. I'll never forget that summer day in 2009—you burst out of the cardboard box like a tiny tornado, charging around with a chew toy in your mouth, your blue eyes shining so bright they looked electric. You even knocked my slippers flying.
Back then, eating was like a battle for you-your metal bowl clanged nonstop But every time you knocked over a flowerpot and got scared, you'd curl up into a fuzzy ball and nudge my hand with your cold nose. At night, you'd sleep in my old sweater nest, your belly puffing up and down. I used to squat beside you just to watch you snore, even when my legs went numb.
You were such a little troublemaker as a pup: running around with a paper bag stuck on your head, yanking all the socks off the clothesline, barking yourself hoarse at the Roomba. Thunderstorms made you dive into my arms, leaving claw marks on my neck. When you got older, you'd trip me during morning walks on purpose, but you'd always lick my scraped hands like you were sorry.
I just found your old teething toys-they're covered in those jagged bite marks.
Time flies, huh? I keep picturing you walking slowly with your white whiskers, but when I close my eyes, I still see you zooming around like a maniac.
The frozen cod chunks you didn't finish are still in the freezer. That mint plant you dug bald on the balcony actually grew new leaves. I've stopped wandering down the pet food aisles, but last night when I heard a dog bark, I suddenly remembered the sound of you stealing blueberry cookies.
When the rainy season comes, I'll take you to the riverbank. If I see ripples spreading on the water, I'll know it's you splashing around with your tail wagging.
I miss you a lot, a lot...
