Stories from The Moon / Cuentos de la Luna

Dear Woman on Seat --G, 

	I’m writing this letter from Bern with my dog nestled next to me. Without you, this wouldn’t have been possible. I’d flown with my dog from Miami to Dallas and then to Puebla; but I’d never taken him on a ten-hour-continuous flight. I couldn’t have asked for a better ally. When my boarding group was called, Kai and I stepped on the plane and found our seat next to yours. There were more passengers than I’d expected, and Kai’s bag grew more uncomfortable to him with every passing minute. Fear set in. My poor dog confined to a tiny cube of waterproof fabric and breathable mesh. I reached for my phone and texted my mother to please stay at the airport gate because we were getting off the plane. She didn’t read it. I tried my aunt--she answered right away. Remain calm. His breathing is fine. He’ll fall asleep soon. Don’t get off. It’s going to be okay. I felt that horrible knot in my throat, but I wanted to be a strong mother and sat in quiet anxiety.

Once the plane took off, a flight attendant said that if it were okay with you, I could take Kai out of his bag. I don’t remember asking you but I looked at you and you smiled. You said that it was perfectly fine by you. I hugged Kai to my chest all the way to Madrid. He slept the whole flight, as my aunt had prophesied. I remember you said that you lived between Chile and Madrid, wore a pair of comfortable-looking furry socks, and asked for the vegetarian option, like I did. At some point, Kai’s head was very close to your shoulder, before I had time to apologize, you reached out your hand to pet him. I regret being too shy to ask for your number. I wanted to send you a proper thank you letter. 

I think of you when I take Kai on an especially scenic walk; or when I’m cooking and he’s right there spying on me from the corner of his couch; or when I get back home covered in snowflakes and he’s there on two legs asking to be picked up; or when my friends come over for brunch and he sits with us, listening to all our stories; or when I had COVID in January and he slept with me day after day; or every time I miss my family and he is there with his big brown eyes staring at me. Without your patience and kindness, I wouldn’t have my best friend with me.

We got off the plane together, but--you know what airports do to people--everyone gets panicky about finding their gate or the way out on time. You were by my side one moment with your burgundy carry-on and the next; you were gone. 

Wherever you are, thank you, 
The woman and her dog you met in Mexico City
Seat --F