Escapril Day 2: Almost Home

The feeling of having you greet me at the door’s never to be seen again.
I might be coming back home—but who am I coming back to?

Remember when we first met at PetSmart?
My mom introduced us and we instantly fell in love.
Soon, you became my precious orange baby.
Day and night, we cuddled and played.

We were both kids.
You played with my pencil and interrupted my homework,
And I came to you for unconditional love.
But one day, you left me to grow on my own.

I just tried to find you to feed you,
Instead, I find you lying sideways in the closet with drool coming out of your mouth.
I spoke before my brain even processed it, “Mango est mort.” (Mango’s dead.)
But I didn’t want to accept it, I called the vet and we brought you over.

To imagine you spent your last moments panicking killed something in me, too.
All I wanted was the chance to say goodbye—to tell you I loved you.
Now, every time I return to Ottawa, it doesn’t feel quite like “home.”
There’s no home without you.

I walk by the closet and recall that moment.
Fear, sadness and an overwhelming sense of guilt that you spent your last moments alone flood over me.
Tears stream down my face, and I don’t even notice them anymore.
I still feel your presence around the home, but I can no longer feel your soft fur or your cuddles.

I might be able to come home to Ottawa, but it hurts to know I can never come back to you.
I love you, Mango.