16. Sidekick

We’d been planning it for months.

Ever since that rottweiler from the next street over had chased us two blocks. I had to scoop her up and run with her in my arms the whole way. We were going to get a bike. At the very least, we could outpace the rottweiler. The last time had been a close call.
When I first picked out the bike, I’d thought of putting her in the front basket. She was small enough to fit, but she detested it. A friend suggested one of those seats you put a toddler in, behind the rider, but a pug and a toddler don’t have the same proportions. No, if I was going to do this, I’d need a trailer to hitch to the bike.
At first, she was afraid. She would yelp at every bump and bark at the passersby. Then, after a couple of rides, she got comfortable. So much so that she’d quickly be lulled to sleep. It was good for me too. The extra weight was like resistance training. I was gearing up for a night ride hosted by a local bike shop. I’d spend the whole day dragging her around town on the bike if she would let me. People started to know us because of the bike and trailer. We were just two girls out on the town.
She was my partner in crime, the other pea in my pod, my drooling little sidekick.
The day of the night ride came but I dared not go. Not without her. But something told me I had to do it, if not for myself then for her. I loaded all of her favourite things into the trailer; Her blanket, treats, toys, even a picture of her, every part of her I had left. I cried the whole time, but everyone at the ride understood. Everyone knew we were one less girl around town. We decorated the trailer with battery-powered lights, she would have loved that. The trailer was lit up like a Christmas tree by the time I pushed off of the bitumen.
The weight behind me almost felt the same and for a split second, I felt as if we were on one last ride together. We were two girls about town, just like before.