Letter to B

You came in, uninvited. I was fast asleep upstairs.
Did you know?
Did you care?
I don't think you did. You had your eye on what you wanted. Nothing was going to stand in your way. What I want to know is why? Why did you take him? You must have seen him before, out walking through the park or was it on the beach or in the woods. You must have been watching. That thought gives me chills. I try to block it out but it's the only clue I have to make sense of it all. To see that this wasn't just a random theft, that there was a reason for it. If I can believe there's a reason I can believe he's safe and well.
Is he?
I imagine he's of value to you. He must be worth some money, for breeding perhaps? He's certainly not a racer, not anymore. You must have seen his limp; an old injury. He never quite recovered from that. Not that it bothered me at all. I loved him for what he was. A loveable, soft, calm dog. He was so sweet natured he used to follow me everywhere I went, and pined when I wasn't around.
Is he pining now?
I can't bear to imagine.
I'm hurting so much if I think that he's unhappy my heart will break into so many tiny pieces that it can never be put back together. Even now as I write to you tears are pouring down my cheeks.
How could you do this to me? How could you do this to Winston?
If you have any mercy left inside you, you'll bring him back to me. You'll bring him back home.
Do you?