Hello,

I don't know if you'll ever read this since I'm sure you get your share of good and bad mail already. This will probably get lost in the masses of letters but I'm writing this anyway. I have to tell somebody. I need to.

My name is Eve and this is my third attempt at writing this damned letter. I know, I know: Strange way of starting a letter but I've decided to just tell you my honest story without a filter. Two years ago I had a calf whose father was a different species. Surprised? Thought you'd be. Not many know of this since the father and I decided to keep it a secret.

We had one of those loves that thrived on adventure and secrecy. I was a librarian and he was a "songwriter" that was unemployed on the side. We did silly immature things that seemed so cool and daring to my boring life. Things that always ended with us running fast, while holding paws, away from some shop owner or security guard we had messed with. The thrill of almost being caught, and knowing that I was doing what my conservative parents could never imagine, was an addictive rush. He and I were exciting and electric and I'm smiling just thinking about that summer. All the stories and laughs…

Anyway(grossness alert), one day I had killer cramps and started bleeding. I thought it was my period that was verry late(must have been early days since there wasn't a worrisome amount of blood). What I didn't realize back then was that I must have miscarried so I just kept on with my newly exciting lifestyle. I was a kid so I guess that's my only excuse for not realizing. We really could have really used you and your partner as a reference since, soon after, we learned that mammals of different species could reproduce.

Apparently this guy could get me pregnant from across the street because a few months later I was peeing on a stick. His response to the news was a stupified "Oh." Classic, right? Needless to say, we were scared out of our minds and never shared the information with anyone. My wardrobe changed to baggy layered shirts and stretchy pants and he got an actual job. My roommate minded her buisness and when the time came I had the baby in my bedroom. We were too afraid to go to a hospital

I don't know why he never asked me if I was unfaithful. It would have been the logical response to the impossible predicament we were in. He immediately assumed he was the father and.. I guess thats just how we were. I trusted him with my life and the pregnancy made our connection grow deeper. I like to think we were strong back then.

We named her Daisy and she was so beautiful. She squrimed and cried and curled up in my arms. Her father had his arms around us both as we watched her tiny movements and all the fears I had of being a mother were washed away.

She was weak though so she didn't stay with us for more than a few hours. The short time we had with her was a bliss that I won't ever forget. I'd never cried so much in my life as I had that day. First there were tears of pain, then tears of laughter, joy, and love. Next came tears of uncertainty, fear, and confusion. Lastly, tears of despair. We were both in denial at first, but after her little chest hadn't moved in twenty minutes, we knew. Somehow my mind held on to the idea that if I showed her how much I loved her that she'd come back. So I held her tight against me so that she could feel my heartbeat and I whispered little promises. The feeling of emptiness was overwhelming after I let her father take her out of the room. I will always wonder if she'd still be alive had we gone to the hospital.

We ended up taking a cab to the rainforest district. We were a sorry sight: A crying couple holding a basket with a soft blanket overtop. There, at 3am, at a lesser known river, we let her drift off.

I haven't written his name because it still hurts to and its just easier so that no one can track this back to me. We tried to stay strong together but, as time passed, we only reminded eachother of Daisy. Not that we could forget her, but being together wasn't helping us heal. So we broke. Being around my family was hard. I went for my dad's birthday and had to put on a fake smile so that they wouldn't know. I remember my mom asking if I had found a boyfriend yet and I felt like I had been kicked in the gut. They still don't know to this day.

People say that time heals and I guess thats true. Most of the time, when I think of her, the memories are good now. The cute way her nose twitched or her father talking to my tummy before she was born. When I saw the news of an interspecies baby I instantly thought someone found out about Daisy but then I saw the picture of you two and realized that I wasn't some biological anomaly. Knowing that your pup is alive and healthy gives me hope. Im sure you'll be seeing brave interspecies couples and families popping up in Zootopia now that you've started on the pathway that I was too afraid to walk. I didn't just send this to you because I needed closure. What I want you to take from this is a sense of community. You two are not alone. You weren't the only ones to go through this. And you're stronger than I was. That alone tells me that you'll make amazing parents to your pup. Don't take any moment for granted.

Your Family,

Eve