12.12.25.

my angel gained his wings.

It was in 2015. I remember when you were just a puppy. Eighty-percent eyes and twenty-percent ears. Black. Brown. I don’t remember much. Just the excitement when you were at my grandmas house in a cage. My grandma let you run around. Your tiny legs carrying you around the white floors, a two-three year old sometimes trailing behind you.

In 2021. I remember you taking off running in my grandmas house when your last owner placed you down on the floor. You were only there for three days before you came to me. You were now in my home. For three years you were in my home. You were loved. Loved. Spoiled rotten. To the core. No more cage. Brushed. Fed. You loved watermelon, whipped cream, chicken, sausages, the peas from the Chinese place we always ordered from. Only preferred soft food because your teeth were rotten. Grey. Brown. I don’t remember much now.

In 2024. You weren’t in my home anymore. Re-homed. You were now with your cousins. My family. I didn’t see you much. When I did see you, you were excited but you didn’t really pay me no mind. Were you upset that you weren’t in my home anymore? I love you still. I miss you still. I leave space in my room. For whenever you come back.

In 2025. I last saw you on my birthday. 11 days later I was told you gained your wings. You were with your family still. You weren’t running anymore. Were you hurt? I hope you weren’t in pain. I’m so sorry. I wish I was there to save you. I love you. I love you. I miss you. I lost you twice. I wish you were here. Even if I don’t see you enough. I knew you were still okay. I now only remember you being placed in a box. I’m sorry.

Love, Merlin.

• December 15th, 2025. 11:22 PM.