The Purple Door

Matted, patchy in places, what is left of my fur makes me look mangy, I know. But I don’t mind. Even when some of them grimaced when they had to touch me. But you never did, you only ever smiled to see me, no matter what I looked like. Even through puffy eyes and cheeks running with tears, a corner of your mouth would turn up for me.

It might not seem like it to all of them, but I think we had a pretty good go of it together. Not so long in years, but many in grand adventures. Continue reading “The Purple Door”