The Loved One Has Their Own Circumstances Too

Welcome to the VIP Spa.

The heavy door opened. I was carried by a staff member and transported to a quiet room.

Your handling is sloppy. Hold me with both hands. You have potential.

I was laid down on pure white linen.

Today is your ten-year maintenance, isn't it?

Call me a veteran. Not bad. There are many people here who understand.

The highest quality natural soap enveloped me.

The white returned to its original white. The black began to regain its luster.

The foam reached my ears. It smells good. Make the house use this too.

The artisan's fingertips slowly kneaded my fur.

Yes, more to the right. That's it. You have potential.

Next to me, a cat chimed.

Noisy. Cats should just stay quiet and sleep.

The kitty looks like it's feeling good too, doesn't it?

Wrong. I'm the one feeling better.

I closed my eyes. My body, which is rubbed and squeezed by her every morning, began to loosen up little by little.

Not bad. No, actually, it's quite good.

Before long, my seams were undone.

Hey! That's my side. That tickles.

The cotton is being pulled out.

From my chest, from my arms, from my stomach, all the way to my tail. Everything is becoming lighter.

It's light.
This is bad.
Don't take away my dignity too.

My body has become empty. The craftsman gently places the removed stuffing into both hands.

"You have been cherished quite a lot, haven't you?"

I saw it too. The stuffing, which should have been pure white, is slightly yellowed. My chest is rounded and flattened, my right arm is a bit soft. And only my tail is completely flat.

"This part has been touched the most, hasn't it?"

Naturally.
It's her favorite.

The nights I cried at work. The nights I was too happy to sleep. The holidays I spent watching TV without a thought. This stuffing has absorbed it all.

The craftsman brought new stuffing.

A little extra for the tail.

A little?
Don't hold back.
Stuff it to the limit.

"If you put in too much, it will look unnatural."

What is natural?
Being loved is more important.

A little bit of stuffing was added.

You have good taste.
No, it's still not enough.

In my chest, in my arms, in my stomach. My whole body is filling up with new stuffing.

I am becoming myself again.

Finally, I was carried in front of a mirror.

The clerk turns me to face forward.

That's wrong.
Fifteen degrees.

The angle changes just a little.

It has potential. The white is like snow. The black has a sheen. The tail is so fluffy.

The craftsman picked it up gently.

"With this, it will be fine for another ten years."

Twenty years.
Who do you think I am?

Returned to the box.

It is time to go home.

Tonight, she will surely say.

"You're back!"

Then, she will press my tummy, knead my tail, and laugh.

I even know that look on her face.

New things are beautiful.

But that alone is not enough.

For ten years, I have been held silently on the days I laughed and the days I cried.

There is no shop anywhere that can refill those moments.

That is why.

...New things lack memories.

As for the tail.
Knead it every day.