Dear Comrade Elvis. As I am writing this letter to you, the rain is falling. I thought to myself, what a good ambience to sleep tonight. As I thought about it, I thought about you. I’m wondering is it raining where you are right now. If it does, is it raining hard? If it is raining hard, are you feeling cold because of it? I hope your thick fur will keep you warm. The more I thought about you, the more my mind went back to last week.
Did you remember the trip we took last week? As I am struggling with the traffic and how not to crash the gigantic car, and then I heard your voice. You were bored, I presume. As another red light popped up, I look to my left and I saw you staring back at me. I can’t remember when was the last time you had properly looked at me. I knew you liked my Brother more than me, but more than anything, I wish you wouldn’t hate me for the vet visits that I’ve been taking you to since last month.
Oh dear, the rain here is getting harder. I hope it’s not raining where you are. Anyway, back to last week. I remember my heart felt like someone had taken hold of it and crushed it when I saw your pleading eyes. I don’t know what it meant. It could mean that you’re bored and you want me to set you free from your carrier so you can roam around freely in the car, or it could mean that you don’t want another vet visit. Was it the latter, Elvis? Because if it is, I don’t know if I can give you that.
You’re older now. You are much more fragile than years before. Anything could set you off and cause you sickness. I can’t risk that. I need to make sure that you are always on your prime condition; even if it means you hating me for the vet visit.
Did you remember what I asked you that day? What I had told you? The one thing I have not yet tell to any living soul (until today, if there is someone reading this post)? I told you that I am not afraid of death. Death is nothing but the end of a journey. That being said, I am a tad bit afraid of the process of dying. But, death itself does not scares me. Everyone dies and not everyone lives, that’s what people said, right? I guess the thing that scares me about death is if happened to someone else, to someone I care for deeply. And maybe, just maybe, the thing that scares people about death is if it happens to someone else.
You’re my best friend, Elvis. I don’t do much about our relationship, but I care for you deeply. And if ever death comes between us, I will be torn apart and it would take years to piece me back together, because my best friend/my companion/my comrade/my most trusted fellow which is you is something that can’t be replaced easily. You and the rest of my cats are my best comrades, the best I ever had. And that concludes this letter. This should have been posted last night, but there was a power outage last night, so, yeah.
I’ll see you next week, Evis.
A super late letter to Elvis in response to The Daily Post writing prompt, Companion.