Today is our birthday. Can you believe it’s been ten years since Dad picked me off the gift shop shelf? It was a happy place with all the balloons and cheerful t-shirts but, I was mostly glad to be chosen. Sure, somewhere I was manufactured, stuffed and threaded and given a tag. But the bunny in that book is right. You aren’t really alive until you love.

Those first days you slept a lot. I sat in the corner of our Pack ‘N Play, listening to the cadence of your small breaths. So tiny that sometimes Mom would lick her finger and put it under your nose. I’m still not sure why she did that. Even your cries back then were soft. That of course took no time to change and soon I was grateful to be there to comfort you since you usually felt safe when I was close.

Remember how it felt like a tent when they put us in your carrier seat and took us places? Dad would find a big blanket, the one our sister uses every night now with the pink ribbon around the edges, and he’d snuggle us together between the straps. Then he’d hide us so the cold couldn’t reach and I remember how I was so content in there with you. You found my ear once while you sucked your thumb and slowly, this became our rhythm.

The first time you called my name it confused Mom, but I knew. I knew right when you said “Butterfly-Pup” that you were calling for me.
“What, Honey? What do you want?”
“Buh-fly pup!”
“Oh, Sweetie that’s a heart. See? Heart-Pup.”
I still like to think my name is “Butterfly” though. Because that’s what you named me.

We spent hours on the princess potty, you reading me stories of other dogs and cats named Oscar or Tilly. I loved your made-up stories. When you’d slide a tiara down the length of my ears or pour me a water in a Tinker Bell tea cup. Your hair was so crazy at times, a fountain spilling from your head because the pigtails had dried it funny.

But I also remember those never-ending nights sitting beside our silver bowl and the clank of your fingernails while you were sick. I stayed until Mom gave me a hot washing. But all that soap was worth not leaving you. I’ve endured plenty of coughing, snot, tossing and dropping. Remember I was lost among the shoes? You had showed me those animals, the elephants and zebras, and then we were going home when I felt the cold tile. There were so many soles and ankles and I just wanted you. I heard you yelling at mom, and I’m so glad you told her where I was because what if I had never seen you again? What if I missed dancing in the living room, hideouts in the front yard bushes where you tell me your secrets, the smell of your face in the morning, the way you’re growing and needing me less and less? But don’t worry about that. Even this is joy for me.

After that I had to stay home more. Mom didn’t want me getting lost so she said I couldn’t come along as much. Remember when they bought the other Heart-Pup that was so not me? You could tell. They didn’t fool us though I was glad you had the company. At least until you brought home Black-Pup. He has been my best friend besides you. He was with me after Nana gave me surgery and new stuffing, when you were trying out your new camera, and the first day you went to school. I don’t know what I would have done all these school days since if it weren’t for him.

What I see, when you aren’t paying attention, when you are busy with your Spirograph or licking your latest wounds from our brother, is a lot of love. Mom sees you, adores you, is so proud of the way you know yourself enough to say your voice in a tone that is not demanding but simply is yours. Dad thinks you are beautiful, gets teary at night thinking of how little time you have left with us. Brother looks up to you. In fact that’s why he’s always trying to be faster, better, right-er, because he knows you’re two years ahead of the game. Sister wants to be you in every way. She wants your clothes, your mature thoughtfulness, your freedoms. And it’s all love. I know because I watch when you don’t.

So happy birthday from me, Heart-Pup. Your best friend who will forever keep your secrets and always be here.