Pets Are Not Whores
The Butterfly Effect
My daughters and I walked to the mailbox with hurried optimism. Sophia, my 6-year-old, ran in front, the mailbox key clinking on the keychain she grasped tightly in her little hand. My 8-year-old, Mia, held my hand and smiled at me while we walked.
"Do you think they'll be there, daddy?" Mia asked.
"I have a good feeling they will be."
"I sure hope so, daddy."
"Me too."
Sophia was already around the corner and running full-throttle for the mailbox, her little fists pumping, her little feet scurrying.
"Sophia is excited too, daddy."
"I can see that."
At the mailbox, Sophia inserted the key and opened the door. Plunging her hand in the mailbox, she pulled out a smallish cardboard box and placed it on the ground. She marveled at it like it was a treasure chest, an ancient lockbox filled with valuable things. Mia knelt next to it, placing her ear on top, closing her eyes as she listened.
"Do you think they know where they are?" Mia asked me.
"I would have to say no to that."
"Where do you think they think they are, daddy?" she asked.
"I have no idea what they are thinking. I'm sure they are confused, though."
"Can we take them home, daddy?" Sophia asked.
"Of course. Let's take them home."
