IV. This is it
As told by Nina
Later that night, I crossed the street in the suburbs of Northshore. Mrs. Larkin lived in an apartment building that was built for elderly people that were still healthy enough to live on their own. It had all the necessary basics nearby, such as a supermarket, a florist and a hairdresser.
There was also a bus stop conveniently close to her place. Even though my car accident had been a few months ago now, I still was a bit uneasy about driving. I had gotten my license at age eighteen, so I have some experience on the road, but the accident really left an imprint on me.
It was not particularly chilly outside, but Spring had only just begun - in other words, I was glad to have my jacket on. Constantly telling myself that I would be okay, I continued with a steady pace. Turning back was no longer an option, although a quiet voice in the back of my head told me that I could still chicken out.
I stood still for a few seconds. If I did decide not to tell Milo's grandmother about our 'inner puppies', how was I going to cover myself up? What else could I tell about Milo that would fit the description I gave to Mrs. Larkin earlier? Firmly shaking my head a couple of times, I continued, still without an answer.
A few minutes and two staircases later, I arrived at the front door of number 217. To my surprise, the nameplate next to the door did not read "Larkin", but a different name I could not read aloud. I decided to ring the bell anyway.
Nothing happened, initially. Just as I wanted to ring the bell again, the door slowly opened, revealing an elderly Hare Indian lady. I knew she was at least seventy years old, but she did not look like an old elderly person, despite the typical reading glasses she wore. Maybe it was that joyful sparkle in her eyes - that same sparkle Milo tends to show when he is little.
"Hello. You must be Nina, right?"
I smiled. "That's me!"
Mrs. Larkin stepped aside, and invited me in with a hand gesture.
"I was in doubt for a second. Your nameplate doesn't show your name, Mrs. Larkin."
"Please, call me Trisha," the Indian replied mirthfully as she closed the door behind me. "No need to make me feel older than I already am, right?"
"I guess," I said, putting down my backpack. "You didn't answer the question though."
"Oh, that's the last name of my husband. I never bothered to change the plate. Somehow, I feel like he's still with me," she mused.
As I took off my jacket, Trisha's attention was drawn to... my collar?
"Is something the matter?" I asked carefully.
"Your collar, dear. It might be my old eyes, but it looks like the one my daughter used to wear."
"That's because it is," I explained, hanging up my jacket. "Milo kept it with him, waiting for a special girl. Shortly after I asked him to be my boyfriend, he gave the collar to me. At first, I hesitated to accept his gift."
"Why is that?"
"Well, it's just... somehow, I thought it would be inappropriate to wear the collar of a deceased person. However, Milo says that it reminds him of his mother, in a positive way. It didn't take me long to appreciate the collar, though. The material is very comfortable, it suits my neck perfectly, and it even fits with the colors of my fur."
Trisha smiled and guided me into her living room. The apartment was not very large, but it sure was cozy. What struck me most was the size of the doors; they appeared to be wider than regular ones. All in all, Trisha's place breathed an atmosphere of peace and rest.
It was the same feeling Milo gave me at his apartment - or in general, actually. Whether that trait is inheritable or just something Trisha taught him, the effect was more or less the same. Even though I hardly knew Milo's grandmother, my instincts told me I could trust her.
"Would you like some tea, dear?" she asked, not unpleasantly stopping my train of thought.
I nodded. Trisha invited me to sit down at her dinner table, which I did. With my head resting in my hands, I tried my best to prepare for the upcoming conversation. A silence lasted between the two of us as we waited for the water to boil.
Her entire appearance was like her apartment; she seemed very calm and relaxed. I could not discern whether that was her character, or just because she did not know what I was about to tell her.
Eventually, Trisha put two large mugs of tea on the dinner table. She sat down right across the table and smiled at me.
"You look tensed, dear. Is something wrong?"
I mentally scolded myself for letting my tail give away my emotion.
"It's about what you're going to tell me, isn't it?"
I nodded, taking a sip of my tea.
"There's no need to be so nervous, Nina. I'm seventy-nine, there's a whole lot I've seen before. I think whatever you're going to tell me won't upset me."
If you only knew how wrong you are, I thought.
"He's not cheating on you, is he?" she said, half joking.
"No, of course not," I said with a faint smile.
"Just take a breath, and take your time," Trisha reassured.
I did like she suggested and took a deep breath.
"Milo probably told you that we met because we both attended a certain course at the university."
The Indian nodded.
"That's not true, actually. We... we've met through an online community."
Trisha shrugged. "I don't see what's wrong with that."
Something inside me triggered a feeling - no, a craving. My adult self was more or less comfortable, but my inner puppy... not so much.
"Um, can I get something from my backpack before we continue?"
"Of course, dear. Go ahead."
The legs of the chair creaked as I moved it backwards to get up. Without saying a word, I went to the hallway and knelt down at my backpack. As I fiddled with the zipper, my determination turned in to hesitation. Seemly suddenly, I strongly doubted my decision. Did I really need to tell Trisha about my secret? If I did not, how did I talk myself out of it? I had kind of said too much already.
With the backpack finally zipped open, I looked at Natasha's eyes, but those dark brown marbles could not answer my gaze. I picked her up and wrapped her in a tight hug. As I closed my eyes and enjoyed the softness of her fur, I managed to pull myself together. I had to do this. For Milo. For both of us.
I got back on my paws and returned to the living room, still tightly holding on to my plushie.
"What's that?" Trisha asked curiously.
Another deep breath. I never expected this to be so hard.
"It's Natasha, my stuffed White Shepherd. Milo gave her to me."
"How sweet of him. I suppose you got it so you have something to hold when he's not there?"
I faintly smiled. "Yush, but that's not the main reason. I used to have a different toy, but I lost her, so Milo bought me this Shepherd to replace my old one."
"Is _that_what you wanted to tell me, dear?" The Indian asked with disbelief.
I shook my head.
"Are you all right, dear? I won't force you to say anything you'd rather keep to yourself," she reassured.
"I feel like I've got to tell you this. Milo would never have the courage, it's just not in his character."
"He's a special boy. Spontaneous and talkative on the outside, but shy on the inside."
"That sounds like the Milo I know," I agreed. "Let's start at the beginning. I told you that Milo and I didn't exactly meet at the university. Well, we did, but by then, we already knew each other. We're both a member of... PuppyNet."
She did not respond verbally, but rather made an inviting gesture.
"PuppyNet is a community for people... let's put it- no," I stammered.
"Take your time, Nina. Calm down, and just say what's on your mind."
"You see, every now and then, I get the urge to act like a child, to feel like a puppy again. Everyone at PuppyNet has that urge, more or less."
"Including Milo, I suppose?"
I nodded, slowly stroking Natasha's fur. "At some point, I've started looking online to discover if I was the only one that had these urges, and it turned out that I'm not alone at all. There's only a couple of thousand people like me our country, though."
"I see, so it's fairly uncommon," She concluded, then took another sip from her mug. "This acting like a child... what do you mean exactly?"
"It's a form of role-play, like playing pretend. Attending the university and doing art projects can get really stressful. Everyone's watching, and they're quick to judge. There are things nobody can help me with, as they depend on my personal creative process. That's a good thing, 'cause I like to do my thing by my own ways, but it can also be... it can feel like a prison, as if my mind wants to do more than my body can handle. When I'm 'playing puppy', so to speak, I don't feel the weight of the responsibilities and other grown-up things in my life. I feel like I can be free of those worries."
"And how does that work?"
"Do you know how actual puppies tend to have a stuffed animal or a security blanket?"
She nodded. "Milo's mother had both when she was a toddler."
"Well, it works kinda like that. Take Natasha, for instance. Cuddling her makes me feel safe. I can't explain how or why, it just does."
"There's nothing wrong with that, is it?" Trisha replied kindly.
"I don't think so... but having a cuddle toy isn't that weird," I said, feeling my tail trying to tuck itself between my legs.
The old Indian drunk some of her tea, then slowly put her mug down.
"You seem worried about something. Don't be afraid, you can tell me."