Dear Rufus

Hi, I’m Sadie. Some strange stuff’s been going on lately. I have to get it out of my head and onto paper. I’d like to share some things, but let’s keep it between us for now, okay?

Reading isn’t going to help me tonight. It takes too much concentration. Looking at my bookcase I noticed some shiny plastic. Hmm. I took the unwrapped journal Aunt Sue gave me for my last birthday. I never thought I’d use this, but maybe tonight’s the night. It seems like the right time, I guess. When really is the right time to write all my secrets on paper?

I climbed onto my purple window seat—and like the bed in that old story, it was just right. The stiff new journal smelled a bit like plastic, but I’m ready to give it a go.
“Dear… Hmm, what do I call you? ‘Dear Diary’ sounds so common. How about ‘Dear Rufus’? Yeah, I like that…”


Dear Rufus,

I’m sitting here and thinking of Ruby. After all that’s happened, a memory came back to me. On one of our walks in the early days when we began exploring Evergreen, Ruby stopped suddenly, and I couldn’t coax her to walk again. I tugged gently on the leash only after calling her name, clapping my hands, and doing my singing whistle thing. I never pulled her hard; the collar was around her neck after all. Finally, I put my head down alongside hers to see what had her so fixated. In the road there was a rock. At that time it was the strangest rock I’d ever seen. I could see all the way through it which gave it the impression of being both present and invisible at the same time.