Everyone who knows me knows that I celebrate my 21st birthday every May, spending Memorial Day weekend partying like I can drink for the first time. It’s not because I’m embarrassed by my age, or I don’t want people to know how old I am, but because 21 is he last year you get anything in the United States. It’s the last birthday that’s special not because you’re just old! It’s the last just crazy special and fun birthday. (16 you can drive, 18 you are an “adult” and gain a range of new allowances, and 21 you can drink).
This year, I didn’t do that. I got Chewie when I was 20, just a couple weeks before my 21st birthday, and he celebrated every single 21st birthday with me. Someone sent me a card signed by my remaining two dogs, and it hit me hard. Where was Chewie? I miss him.
I aged 15 years at that moment.