I spend a lot of my time sitting on a bed. I can’t specify the bed as my own because it’s not indeed my own bed. You see I don’t have ownership over well anything. I am what you call the property of someone else. I like to daydream, it’s better than staring at the walls. When Kendra (my owner) is gone throughout the day, I like to use that time to reflect. She tells me secrets all the time, it’s because she can trust me. I would never tell a soul, I could never betray her like that. I’ve known her for about 15 years now. We have so much history, me and Kendra.

I observe so many things without even trying. Depending on the angle I am sitting. I have the perfect view of the bayside window that overlooks the large oak tree in the backyard. Sometimes it’s left open allowing the breeze to wisp through my fur. If I’m not nestled comfortably on the bed, I can sometimes be tossed aside onto the floor. From there I get the feeling of not being wanted.

It can become lonely and I tend to think Kendra doesn’t love or care for me. Then I have to remember it was an accident, while making her bed I was flipped off the comforter and landed with a soft thud. My ego was more bruised than my actual bottom. Seeing how my soft and cotton-filled rear end lessened the blow.

I have plenty of experience with quiet. When she’s gone for long periods of time, I’m in her room by myself. No one to play with me or to be a listening ear too. It can be a deafening silence at times. Stuck in my own head with just a window to look out of. Then again it all depends on the angle for which I am sitting. Vertically from me, there sits a black mirror. My image is as clear as day. White skin with black spots, floppy black ears, and a short almost nonexistent tail. She named me Daisy, the stuffed Dalmatian.