I remember the day my humans found me. It was a crisp October morning in New Orleans. I eagerly awaited visitors as I sat inside the quaint boutique I resided in. I was perched high upon a shelf, partially hidden behind the larger and more desirable companions but that didn’t matter, she still found me. I remember the moment she spotted me. She began to jump for joy as she handed me to her male companion who was waiting close by. She was going on about how I was the perfect addition for their recent surprise. The woman just found out she was pregnant a few days prior (or so I gathered based on their conversation) and she thought I was the perfect first gift . A simple dusty rose colored mouse with not much to me besides my long skinny limbs and sewn on attributes. None the less, they chose me.

I remember being worried because of my small stature accommodated by a large price tag. I was sure once my price was revealed they would no longer want me and leave me behind, but I was wrong. The woman looked up at her husband with gleaming eyes to which he completed the transaction without hesitation. From that moment on, I was theirs and I had a job to do.

The woman placed me inside her bag that laid across the front of her chest. She configured me in a way where my head and arms were able to hang out making it easy for me to view this unseen world in front of me. I appreciated that. I remained there for the entirety of their trip here in New Orleans.

I felt safe. I felt at home.

After three days of sightseeing I was brought to another place I’ve never been. I overheard the woman call it an airport. She tucked me tightly inside of her bag and told me that we were going “home”. I wasn’t quite sure where “home” was but it didn’t matter, I still couldn’t believe they chose me.

Turns out home is in California. My home.

The next nine months were a blur. I sat on top a bookshelf that hung from the wall. It was inside a room I could tell was decorated for a child. I got daily visits from the both of them, assuring me that my new best friend was arriving soon.

I remember one night the woman began frantically packing her bag telling her husband that they had to go. Right before they left the woman walked into the room and grabbed me from the shelf I called home those last nine months. She placed me at the top of the bag, tucking me in just before she sealed it. I think it was time to meet my best friend.

I quietly waited until it was my time. In the early hours of 5 AM I saw her for the first time. She held onto me instantly and from that moment forward I was hers.

Being in the right place at the right time is such a sentiment in my story. If that woman hadn’t found out she was pregnant prior to leaving for her trip to New Orleans then she wouldn’t have wondered in that children’s boutique that day. If she had never came in then I may have still remained at the top of that shelf tucked away awaiting the day someone may possibly see me and bring me home. I’m glad it was them. I’m glad I was in the right place at the right time.