She always came back. It might be a few days, sometimes even a couple of weeks, but she always came back. I waited for her return; I knew she’d come back to me when the time was right. I am always so joyous to see her. I run to her, calling her name, and she always does the same. I don’t know if she has a home of her own, but it doesn’t matter. What matters to me is knowing she is safe. She is okay. I am alone in this world, but she is my sun. She is my friend.

It’s nearly dark. The sun is disappearing, falling away below the horizon and painting the sky into a mosaic of pinks and blues. I didn’t expect to see her, and yet there she stands, watching me. She has something with her, a metal and plastic box. It sits beside her feet. Does she have someone new? A new friend?

I start walking towards her. She calls out to me and I break into a run. I quickly closes the gap between us; she is so close I can reach out and touch her. Maybe today will be the day? I stop in front of her and look into her eyes.

She bends down and gently picks me up, lifting me over her head. I stare into her eyes; they are green like mine. She stares into mine. Then, in a voice so soft and soothing, she asks:

“Would you like to come home with me?”

Pure bliss.