9/23/07

You greeted me each morning with the touch of your warm fur, and the feel of your face rubbing against my legs.  The sound of your sonorous purring told me you felt warm and loved, safe and secure with me.  You slept contentedly on my lap.  Sometimes you bothered me with your incessant pacing on and around my body.  I pushed you away, but you took my abrupt dismissals in good grace, only to return at my beck and call to tell me I was forgiven.   When I returned from my travels you were there, not jumping and barking, but pacing back and forth, tail swaying with the anticipation of my touch.  I grew up with you.  Your playful antics abounded and always made me laugh.  I even miss the occasional grumpiness that came with your old age.  You grew to be an adult before me, but then passed me and grew old while I was still young.  Somehow that is not fair, nor was watching the light in your eyes fade as I held you and petted you in a vet’s office.  I wrapped you in a towel, and as I took you home, I sang my heart’s grief to you.  Your face and your ways will swirl in my mind for as long as I live.  I turn over in my sleep, and for the briefest of moments I think I see you curled up in one of your favorite spots.  My God, even now I sometimes think I feel your you jump up on the bed, and in the middle of the night feel your body pressing against me.  That is not my imagination, Dusty, it is you comforting me, to say your long and lingering farewell.  Do not be afraid, beloved pet, I will not push you away.