And Bugsy
Bugsy died in my arms this morning. He’d spent the night with me, moving from lying beside me, to lying behind me, to lying on the end table which I’d cleared for him since he’d become enamored of the window air conditioner. He’d purred. He’d drank water which was just for him. He’d suffered. When he’d wanted to leave the room I had let him.
When I woke, I went to feed the cats and he didn’t come
I found him lying on the linoleum in the foyer. He couldn’t walk. He’d tried to come when I called but couldn’t. I lifted him and held him to my chest. He mewled 3 times and died. Did he wait for me?
I wish I had woken earlier. I would have slept even later, but I was woken by a wondermare of Michael. Michael was sitting on a bench. It was big hair Michael. He was solid, but someone on the far side looked right through him. The person, I don’t know who it was, said Michael was missed and related him to Bozo The Clown with a loving fondness because of the hair.
If I’d have woken earlier, would Bugsy have died in my arms, in my room, which was his most favorite place?
I can’t write the fiction. The truth is more than I can handle.
.
When I woke, I went to feed the cats and he didn’t come
I found him lying on the linoleum in the foyer. He couldn’t walk. He’d tried to come when I called but couldn’t. I lifted him and held him to my chest. He mewled 3 times and died. Did he wait for me?
I wish I had woken earlier. I would have slept even later, but I was woken by a wondermare of Michael. Michael was sitting on a bench. It was big hair Michael. He was solid, but someone on the far side looked right through him. The person, I don’t know who it was, said Michael was missed and related him to Bozo The Clown with a loving fondness because of the hair.
If I’d have woken earlier, would Bugsy have died in my arms, in my room, which was his most favorite place?
I can’t write the fiction. The truth is more than I can handle.
.