Awakenings

I woke up today in a plastic kennel without the warmth of my siblings or my mama's heartbeat. I was cold and lonely and completely forgot my surroundings. Finally it came to me. Last night, Laura and Jesse brought me to their home in Minneapolis. I think I must have dozed off during the car ride. I wedged my sausage-like body into Laura's lap and only heard giggles and whispers as I drifted to sleep.

"He's kind of gassy," Laura said.

"He's just like his dad," Jesse said, petting me on the ear as he gave me a proud wink.

When we got home, they must have put me in this kennel beside their bed. When I woke up in the dark several hours later, I panicked. I thrashed my paws against the metal gate. Oh, did I howl. I cried and whined and shouted. This was me doing the blues.

"He sounds like a monkey," I heard Jesse say.

Several minutes went by. What were they waiting for? Finally, the lights came on. Laura climbed out of bed. "Throw me a pillow," she said to Jess. She lay on the ground and sidled up to the kennel and put her face next to mine. I finally stopped my whining and tried to think of pleasant things. Moist socks. Cool grass. My squeaky squirrel toy. But I still missed my family and my life in the country.