I stayed right where you left me—by that roadside—for two whole days. I hunkered down, curled in silence. The cars roared, headlights slicing through the darkness, and I trembled, unsure. Yet somehow, I couldn’t move. My world had fallen apart the moment you walked away.
Time stretched between heartbeats. Shadows lengthened. I curled tighter, trying to be brave. I heard engines growl, tires churn. I was terrified. I wondered, Where are you? Are you coming back?
Then a car stopped nearby, breaking the agony of stillness. A kind woman approached. She must have thought she was saving me. She offered lunch. I shook my head, unable to explain that the only thing I wanted… was you. She offered a place to stay. Again, I refused, explained—through whimpers, barks, a broken heart—that I had to wait for you. I was yours.
But she didn’t hear my soul’s plea. She clipped on a leash. Fear and confusion churned within me—I lashed out in panic, biting her several times, my body betraying me with shame. Tears pooled in my eyes and hot shame made me lose control… I peed on myself.
A blur of motion—panic, confusion, someone rushing me into a car. I sobbed and growled at your absence. My stomach heaved; nerves seized me. I screamed for you with all my strength: in whines, howls, and whimpers. Please, Mommy, please come back.
We drove on. She took me to her home. I looked around, the confusion a heavy weight in my chest. She tried to soothe me, but all I could think was—you left me, and now I was just… here, without you. My throat ached. I vomited in my anxiety, hungry for your return.
Days felt like lifetimes. I finally ate a little. I slept, but my dreams were filled with you—your face, your warmth, the way you whispered my name. And in a rare moment of comfort, curled on a soft bed, my tail hesitated—and gave a gentle wiggle. Shame flickered in my heart. I realized: she’s being kind. This could be home. She calls me Milo. But I’m not Milo. My heart still chants your name.
Mommy, you’re coming back for me, right? Right?
I held onto hope.