Nostalgia and quiet
This morning, Arlene and I woke up to a quiet house. No Loca to pounce on Arlene’s head. No Loca bouncing up against the kennel demanding attention. Shell shocked, we went about the business of getting the Bean fed and me up and out for our walk. The temperature here is pure fall beginnings – all the promise of everything that winter brings – a change in tone, color, feel. A new, new that feels like an old, old. And yet, both of us, calm and relaxed, were missing that ball of energy called Loca Negra – her boundless enthusiasm and curiosity that leaves both the Bean and I perplexed most of the time.
I cleaned the windows – no three foot drool streak – I straightened the rug – no skid into it on her way to bounced off the sofa – I took all of the plush toys and put them on her crate – no squeaks.