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Box Of Puppies

 
  Good morning Del. How you doing lover?  
  It sucks that you have to work today. Yet it's cool, that you're working the holiday so that you have an extra day when you come visit again. Kinda like how I'm working tomorrow, whether I'm over this flu or not.  
  Isn't modern technology great? Our two video calls for celebrating New Year's last night. Once for my midnight and then for yours an hour later. We hung in there! I knew you had to work today. And yeah, my flu (a cold, covid, the lung plague, whatever it is) had me a little blah. Thank god for our resilience and humor!  
  Anyway, I figured I would drop you a note, explaining something. About why I call you my box of puppies. When you read this, maybe it will give you just a bit more of an understanding of how I'm wired.  
 
  When I was kid, we had a golden retriever named Bonnie. She was a great dog. One year, she got pregnant by the neighbor's German shepherd. When she had the puppies, my brother and I went to the plaza and got a refrigerator box from behind one of the stores. We dragged it the mile or so home.  
  Bonnie had those puppies outside. She had dug a hole and literally buried herself up to her nose. It took quite awhile to find her, but I did. Getting dad to agree to move her and the puppies inside was a chore. Because mom didn't want the whining, or the smells, to mess up her living room existence.  Mom practically lived on the couch, if she wasn't in bed. So, convincing dad to side with us took a bit of effort. But dad usually agreed with me. I rarely asked for much.  
  One day, after a crappy day at school, I came home to one of the puppies whimpering outside the box. They were about four weeks old by then. Old enough to try to do dog things, but too young to be a fully functioning dog. They were just little things. All bellies and stubby legs.  
  Bonnie saw me and started doing a "Help me" squirming dance. She probably could have lifted the puppy back into the box, yet she was hampered by the six other ones clinging on a nipple, or draping over her neck.  
   My mom was sitting on the couch. The TV blaring some soap opera as loud as a war zone. I guess it would've been too much trouble for her to get off her ass and put the puppy back into the box. Then it would have stopped whining. Then, she could have turned the TV down, back to a tolerable level. But I suppose even common sense is too much work for some lazy people.  
  Bonnie did her happy dance, when I placed the puppy down beside her. She smelled it and then licked its face, soothing its tears. It tucked itself under her and settled in with its brothers and sisters. Glad to be home.  
   I climbed into the box, and laid down beside this mess of a mama dog and all of the squirming curly tails. I lightly scratched between Bonnie's eyes and she relaxed enough to let them all scamper for a better sleeping spot. Their stomachs were baby-bloated and now they wanted to rest awhile.  
  My mom hollered at me. She told me to get out of that box of piss and shit. That I was going to get my school clothes nasty. But I ignored her. It's not like my clothes were nice or anything. It's not like she paid for them.  
  I was so happy, laying in that box. The puppy smells. Their soft whimpers of contentment and dreaming. Bonnie sleeping, her non-stop task of being a mom, getting to take a break.  
 
  Too long, Del, I grew up being a cardboard box. I've tried to protect everything, all my life. My little brother, my friends, strangers in a bar, and even my country. I've lost count of how many fights I've been in. All for the sake of what I thought was the right thing. But, I'm biased to things that I truly love. I love so fiercely. I gather things into my fortress and I take the battering. And I'm still here. I'm tired though. Maybe this flu is reminding me that I'm just as vulnerable.  
  Even if I look like an old, battered box, it still can hold the warmth inside. Just add another blanket if need be. An extra layer to my heart. An igloo can be made of cloth you know. While this cardboard fortress holds up another year.  
   Over the years, this box that makes me who I am has taken a hell of a beating. Being a part of it, I tend to not see the outside of it. You do. And you don't know how happy that I am, that you find it acceptable. Presentable even, to your family and friends.  
 
  I've always been the box, Del. I take it all in. Sometimes I think that I'm just the total of what I allow inside. Aren't we all? I'm nothing without my results. My success is the contentment of those that matter. Yet sometimes, when I'm thinking, I wonder what it could be like, to be that puppy that's returned to the box.  
  I want to relax, finally. I want to be nourished. I want to be consumed by the pace of joy all around me. I know that it is up to me. To step away from the confines of being the structured box itself. To allow myself to concede to the risk of being vulnerable. To even climb out, and see how I was too rigid, even if I meant well. It's time to be a part of all that I once protected.  

   You are a box of puppies, Del. All of them. Your untarnished joy and your enthusiasm.  And your smiles of eagerness. Your eyes that look at me like I'm the circus that came to town. I feel not just wanted, but longed for. Waited for.  
    I could describe, instead, the wonders of your womanhood. Your lust-worthy body. Your devouring passion. As if it's never been realized before.  
  Not right now, though. For now, it's about how I'm crushing the corners of this box, that make me so damn stoic. I am no longer bound, by so many pieces of tape. Various types that I tried to contain myself with, over the years. Do you even realize how you've peeled me away from that existence? Somehow you have the ability to open me. I've never been so free inside.  
  It's because of you. You brought back that day that I was tangled up in so much joy. Of puppy kisses, of being climbed upon and smothered with a love that isn't tarnished. And, of knowing that life is good now, yet will be so damn great as we grow.  
   
   I don't love you because of how you look. Or how our lovemaking is what people dream about, but can't realize by day. I love you because you are joy personified. Because of how there is no fighting for love with you. When you take my hands, I have no fists. My heart was a fist for so long, Del. I was always prepared to repel, on guard. Yet you aren't the rapunzel that led me into the tower. You are the one that led me out.  
 
  Happy New Year, baby. Ours will be in two weeks. Every visit is a holiday, isn't it? From the first kiss at the airport terminal, to every last one at our "See ya later",  they're all just continuations.  
  I only have one resolution to keep this year. To love you just like I did yesterday. All those years of being the cardboard box, maybe I was really just protecting my own heart. It's yours now. And it's perfect. And you deserve everything in it.  
 
  I love you, with every inch of my battered body. And with every beat of my unblemished heart. Come claim what is yours.  
 
-Mark  
Written by Styxian
Published | Edited 7th Jan 2024
Author's Note
I have the flu.  Yay '24!  But I have enough energy to write!  

Happy New Year, peoples!  
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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