It’s a stuffed dog. He’s a terrier. I bought him last year when I dressed up as Dorothy for a Halloween party at the Dungeon. He’s the only stuffed animal I own. I snatch him out of the bin, put the lid back on, and rush over to jump into bed.
Snuggling the terrier against my chest, I curl up on my side, pull the covers over my head, and open my e-reader. Maybe if I read one of my many Little romances, it will take my mind off the fact that I’m lonely.
I can’t focus, though, and I end up reading the same paragraph over and over until I give up. Still curled up and using the dim light of my e-reader to see, I stroke my terrier’s head. “What’s happening to me?” I ask him.
He stares at me, not responding. He really needs a name, and that thought makes me start crying. Why have I kept him in a bin in the closet for all this time? I bet he was scared in there. And why didn’t I give him a name? How mean am I?
I pet him and kiss all over his face until he starts to look happier. I don’t care that it’s an illusion. I keep crying. Pent-up, nervous energy escapes me, and I nearly jump out of my skin when my phone rings on my nightstand.
I reach my arm out to grab it, see that it’s Daddy, and answer it. “Daddy…” I sniffle.
“Sophia? Baby girl, what’s wrong?”
I cry harder. “Everything. And I didn’t name my dog,” I sob.
“Slow down, Baby girl. Tell Daddy what’s happening. Are you hurt or sick?”
I shake my head.
“Sophia?” His voice is urgent.
I realize he can’t see me. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s just that my house is lonely and, and, and…”
“I’m coming over. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Can you keep talking to me while I drive?”
I nod again and feel foolish. “Yes, Daddy.” I sniffle. I’m being ridiculous.
“Did something happen, Little one?” he asks. I can hear his engine start. He’s driving already.
“No. Yes. I mean, no. You, you, you…”
“Deep breaths, Little one. I will be there in a few minutes. Where are you?”
“Under the covers in my bed.”
“Okay, will you be able to come out for a minute to open the door for Daddy when I get there?”
“Yes, Sir.” I sniffle and hug the terrier closer, rocking him, silently telling him how sorry I am for keeping him in a box.When did I get this Little? Have I been in denial for all these years?
“What were you saying about a dog? Do you have a dog, Little one?”
I stare at the terrier in my hand. “No. I mean he’s a stuffie.”
“Ohh… Okay. Whew. I was confused for a moment.” He chuckles softly, making me feel slightly lighter.
“I’m here, Baby girl. Come let Daddy in.”
I scurry out from under the covers and rush through the house to the front door. I fling it open and leap into Daddy’s arms, smashing the terrier between us.
He holds me tight as he enters the house and shuts the door behind him. Rubbing my back, he reassures me. “It’s okay, Baby girl. I’m here.” He heads toward my kitchen, opens a few cabinet doors, and finds a cup. After filling it with water, he holds it up. “Take a drink for me, Little one.”
I wish it were a sippy cup, but I don’t have one of those because I’m silly. I let him hold it up as I turn my head to take a drink. I’m holding on to him for dear life, my arms and legs wrapped so tightly around his body that he doesn’t even really need the hand under my bottom to keep me from falling.
“Good girl.” He sets the cup down and reaches between us to snag the terrier. “Who do we have here?”
I start sobbing again. “I don’t know,” I wail.
Daddy carries me to the couch and sits with me straddling him. His eyes are frowning, but he’s smiling at the same time in his signature look. “You don’t know who this little dog is? Did he sneak into the house while you had the door open or something?”
