The day he came home

Oxy came home on a Valentine's Day. He fit in two hands. He smelled like puppy, that impossible warm-bread smell, and he fell asleep almost immediately, breathing fast and dreaming about whatever puppies dream about.

He didn't know it yet, but he was already loved. He had a name. He had a bed waiting. He had ten years and three months ahead of him of being the most important small creature in the house.

Welcome home, Oxy.