Dear Ozzie,
You were just a wretch, a waif when I found you. But I didn't find you, you found me.
You lost your baby teeth chewing on my fingers.
You were a tiny thing, with fleas and worms and mites. The day after I found you I saw a dead rat in the gutter and thought that could have easily been you. It was raining so hard the night before and the Fenway was waterlogged.
You came to me in the rain on a Sunday night. You cried outside my window.
I'd been feeling lonely, and my horoscope for that week suggested I might find "a different kind of soulmate."
But I didn't find you. You found me.
You were so scrawny and sick. I was afraid I would lose you as soon as I found you. I did a little magic spell with a scarab beetle and some herbs, wrapped them up in a piece of blue velvet and kept it safe in a box.
16 years later I buried you with that trinket.
Ozzie, you were my best friend. I loved you with all my heart. I hope you knew that.
Some people would say I saved you that night, but actually you saved me.
You found me.
I am honored to be the person you chose to spend your life with.
I miss you so much I can hardly stand it.
I hope someday we'll be together again. In the meantime, I hope God lets you sleep on his lap, and I'm jealous of Him for the head-bonks He will receive.
Dear Ozzie, I love you.
Signed,
Mom
