I have loved Virgil since the rainy day he found me at the bus stop. The cold in my bones had numbed me to almost everything, but his hands when they picked me up were warm. The first warmth I'd ever felt in years.

I love him when he's home. Love him when he's at work. Love him when he's asleep, and when he's awake too. Love him when he buys me chew toys. Love him when we eat dinner together. Love him when he takes me to the park, and other places too. I love him when he pats me or scratches my back, and love him when we snuggle on movie nights.

There are also times when I don't love him as much— no, rather, I do love him, but it hurts to. It's like a terribly tight feeling in my chest. As if under all my fur, something is stretching out my heart, but isn't. I know, it makes me a bad dog. I try not to feel it, but...

When he brings other humans to the house. I feel like our space has been violated. Humans are evil, greedy creatures. Virgil isn't. I hide under our bed until they leave.

I wish I could tell him. That I love him. And I wish he would say it back. But that isn't my destiny. I'm just the dog.

Hugo from the park said it's normal to love a human like I love Virgil. They trust us more than their real companions. And Deadbolt says they see us as sodding drains for their self-pity and pathetic nature. That they look for love in us 'cuz they can't get it for free in any other place. I would give Virgil every last bit of my love if he wanted, though I doubt there is a last bit.

Sometimes my love gets overwhelming though, and even I can't stand it. It gets so much that I want to cry. Shout. Call his name. It hurts.

But I know he's hurting too. Will he hurt more if I give him my love; my hurt?


© 2023 by ravenizcul