Page 83 of Texting, Trouble & Touchdowns
But none more tragic than the echo of your absence.
Your Father,
General Crawford
Olivia: :laughing: emoji
Olivia: You did not just call yourself General Crawford. I can’t stop laughing.
Lucian: You shouldn’t be reading other puppies’ emails.
Olivia: Someone has to do the dirty job. She has no opposable thumbs, remember?
Lucian: What do you think life would be like if dogs had opposable thumbs?
Olivia: :thinking: emoji
Lucian: Chaos. Pure, adorable chaos. Sarah would’ve already unlocked the snack cabinet, texted me thirty-seven times, and ordered herself a Paw-pur-Pedic because basic beds are ruff.
Olivia: She’d have blocked you by now for ignoring her requests and calling her “chunky” last week.
Lucian: I said fluffy. And that was a private conversation between me and her emotional support tennis ball.
Olivia: Honestly, she’d probably have a Petsy shop by now—Artisan goods for pups with taste. She’d be selling personalized bandanas. “Bark if you love chaos” mugs.
Lucian: And a bio that reads: “Single. Chaotic. Enjoys long walks and judging people from windows.”
Olivia: So . . . basically me, but with fur.
Lucian: Don’t sell yourself short. You’d also hoard funny socks and have an irrational hatred for delivery people.
Olivia: One time I chased after a UPS driver because he left the package in the rain.
Lucian: I rest my case.
Olivia: You realize that if Sarah had thumbs, she’d probably open the front door and just show up at your training camp with a sign that says, “I miss Dad.”
Lucian: Don’t even joke. I’d abandon all drills on the spot. Give a dramatic speech. Carry her off the field like a football-shaped princess.
Olivia: You’re so dramatic.
Lucian: And somehow, I think you like the level of drama I deliver.
Olivia: Because this is cheaper than therapy.
Lucian: I’m honored to be your emotional support system.
Olivia: I don’t know how this is my life.
Lucian: Same. But if this is our timeline, I call dibs on the left side of the bed.
Olivia: Only if you don’t snore.
Lucian: I purr. Like a big, confident man-cat.
Olivia: Well, I’m definitely locking my bedroom door now.
Lucian: You’re not fun.
