Blue

This Valentine's Day, I’m living temporarily in a new apartment, sans Chew. It’s a relationship thing. Not something I really want to blog about, but I feel strange avoiding it, too. I don’t want to wallow in sadness, but I miss her face.

As she’s not allowed in my current building, Chewie is staying with my parents in Pennsylvania. The last report I got was that she polished off the last bit of vanilla ice cream and was ripping apart the Häagen-Dazs container. “She’s having a blast!” my mom laughed on the phone. No kidding. Obviously the only one suffering in this situation is me. And, that’s okay. I’d rather not think of all the alternate scenarios involving my little dog living elsewhere, and I’m thankful, grateful, thrilled to know she’s being spoiled rotten 24-7.

But, sometimes at night I toss and turn, trying to imagine her little body curled up against mine. I miss her smell, her velvety ears, her moods. This summer marks our seventh year together, and in that time, we’ve never been apart more than a few weeks at a time. I’m hopeful this arrangement is temporary.

Yesterday, as I was putting on my coat, I found a “Chewie hair”—one of millions of annoying little black hairs I’ve brushed off my clothes and furniture and swept off the floor. I imagined her little tail wagging happily, trotting along beside me, following me with absolute faith, her entire life, and much of my adult one. I took a deep breath, opened the door, and walked out, alone.