The Princess of Peekaboo

Here yee, Here yee. The Princess of Peekaboo is arriving. Like a true royal, she makes her presence known. Her collar jingles like sleigh bells on Christmas morning. The fur, soft like silk, its hue white like eggnog. She radiates elegance. The Queen has nothing on her. Shoulders back, chin up, she struts through the gates of her kingdom. Under the couch, that is her throne room. And I, the court jester. I lift the flaps on the bottom of the sofa, and she smiles. Then I let it go, and she is gone, poof. Again and again, the game goes on like a dog chasing its tail around and around. But my liege, you are always found. 

The game you are playing today is no fun. It all started with the mutts down the street, they were yapping to the rhythm of a dog scratching its ear. They riled you up, and you started yapping too. Then I went to take the trash out and there must have been a big gust of wind because I know I closed that door, I know I did, I did. I must have. I didn’t see you race out the door. The headphones, the headphones! That is why I did not hear your jingle bells ringing up the driveway. I walked into the house through an open door. An open…. oh no oh no oh no no no. My hands begin shaking like a duck who in vain tries to flap his wings, only to realize that they have been clipped. I call your name, no response. Again, nothing. My lower lip trembles. I take off down the neighborhood, hollering your name first with the ferociousness of a Golden Retriever, then the weak whimper of a neglected Chihuahua, beaten and kicked down to the brink of losing all hope in life. My stomach drops, and tears well up when I see that you are not at the ear scratching mutts. My heart sinks. Oh, that’s okay, I tell myself, a passerby must have seen you. I ask an elderly couple if they have seen a dog. A dog with fur like silk, and a strut like a best-in-show. They testify that they have not seen you, and end it by calling me “sweetie,” in a condescending, fake voice. My heart shatters. Round and around the neighborhood I go, like a dog chasing its tail. No one has seen you my dear Princess of Peekaboo. But you are always found. Please be found.

~ Josh K.