Mr. Snuffles

07

You squeal with delight when you first lay eyes on me, and I reciprocate by falling in love with you instantly.

How does one ever forget an image like that? Of you running up to me, laughing as you wrestle me away from your mother’s outstretched hands. You are a sight, a little girl of 7 struggling to hold me up, when I’m almost half your size.

You fuss over me, and I can’t help but preen myself as you heap endearments on me. You gush about how my tail is frizzy, how I’ve got the softest fur, how my button eyes are already speaking volumes to you.

I think it’s in the way you hold me. It’s in the way you laugh, a hearty, innocent laugh that fills the house with warmth. I can’t help it if you inspire trust in me so very easily.

I stay awake that first night, just to watch you sleep. Time just doesn’t seem to flow anymore, and the bedside clock has the courtesy and good manners to signal her ticks softer. By the moonlight you look so very, very perfect.

You can’t hear me, but I’m holding on to you with my paws and I’m promising you, over and over again, that I will always be there to soothe away your pains, to comfort and guide you as best I can.

I belong to you, already.

14

I sit in your lap contentedly, as you scribble furiously away in your diary. Your tears are still hot against my fur, but they do not bother me.

You hold me up to let me see what you have written. I can’t read, so you say it aloud for me. I’m telling you to stop, that apologies aren’t necessary, but you go on anyway (you’ve always been stubborn!).

I’m trying to say, I understand. I know you wanted to seem like a big girl in front of your friends, especially around the boy you have a crush on. So I understand that when they found me on your bed and asked who I was, you casually said I was just some soft toy, like I didn’t matter to you.

You start crying again, burying your face in my side. I know you have recorded this incident in your diary so that you will never forget how important I am to you, but you know why it’s not necessary?

It’s because you have spent these past 7 years by my side constantly. I’m your confidante, your closest friend. You have shared your deepest secrets with me, and have always felt renewed with the silent companionship I offer. You have given me more than I could ask for, and now it is my turn to do something for you.

If what you need is space, to grow closer to your other friends, take it. Do not feel guilty about it. Love is letting go too, yes? I’m glad enough to know I can always cheer you up, make you happy. So, shoo!

21

You pick me up, squeal my name, and hug me tight, for the first time in months. And that’s when I know today’s the day you make your choice.

You have been deconstructing your room lately, packing it all up into little brown boxes. Some boxes are shoved into your wardrobe, but others are adorned with bright air-mail stickers and moved into the hallway.

You’re about to leave for a study program overseas, and I wonder which kind of box I will end up in. I’ve tried to ask you gently for some time, but you don’t really talk to me anymore.

I hate to admit it, but I miss you holding me to sleep.

Twice this past year you have let me comfort you, once when you fell out with your parents, and another when you failed a class test. Twice this past year did I feel needed, wanted again.

And twice this past year did I feel ashamed of myself, for being so selfish. For I have seen what an alluring, confident, successful woman you have become, and I know that asking you to love me like you did years ago, would only hold you back.

I’m proud of the way you are handling most problems on your own now. I’m proud of the close friendships you have cultivated with others. I’m proud of the way you stand on your own two feet, independent, strong.

My heart still aches, sometimes, when I see that you really do need me less, but I understand. It is necessary. I’m just not what you need now.

You slip me into a box, and slowly tape up the opening. I know then that you won’t be bringing me with you, for the rest of the box is filled with an assortment of oddities you won’t be needing overseas.

You confirm my suspicions when you shift the box a short distance, and then close the wardrobe door. As the sounds of you packing continue to filter in, I slowly let go of the hope I’ve been nursing in the bowels of my heart, and it floats away like the morning mist.

35 / 07

The sunlight hurts my eyes, as the lid of the box is pried away. There's a strange male voice in the background, and he wants me thrown out.

You do not listen (you never did!), and instead you lift me out and hug me. You have aged, my angel. There's a certain gauntness to your face I did not think possible before. What storms have you weathered without me?

It's a warm, familiar hug, one that I've not felt in 14 years. I hug you back instinctively, with love I've bottled up for so long, and I regret it at once. It hurts the very second that you disengage just a little too hastily, because I know you no longer feel the same about me.

"Mummy! Who is he!" I turn to see a younger you on the bed, jumping in excitement. She has your eyes, your hair, and most importantly your warmth. Before you can react, she has grabbed me away from you.

She engulfs me in a hug, defiantly staring you down. You disapprove, saying that I’m unclean (I take umbrage at that!), but she doesn't seem to hear you (it runs in the family!). She demands that you let her keep me.

I hesitate.

My heart's in pieces as it is. Can I really go through all this again? Of caring for her, living a life with her, only to see her grow up and walk away, just like you did? You have no idea how painful it is, to love someone with all your being, and then to realize one day that your love is simply not wanted anymore.

That's when she kisses me.

Despite what the male voice says about my thinning fur and loose stitches, despite what you say about me being old and dusty, despite her knowing that there are a thousand other prettier companions out there, she has kissed me.

"I love you, Mr. Snuffles. Will you be mine?"

I hear those words, and something in me mends. I think it may just be possible… for me to love another again.