I miss you. More than that, as we say in French, “you miss me.” You, part of me, are missing.
You ManquesHiggins. Your eyes, most or all. That look that says, I see you. You see me. We have each other.
I can still feel your fur, thick and soft under the fingers, the fat ring around your neck. Those great beautiful ears.
In the morning, when I went down to empty space under the stairs where your bed was. I make breakfast and a piece of my banana awaits you. When I light the light in the garden next to the olive tree and I see you turning around. In the afternoon, when the cuckoo attacks four and you come and look at me. It’s time. I’m hungry.
I miss your sounds: bisqueros and sneezes, sighs and grunts. Just although he knew they were not always a good sign, just after his breathing became much quieter after surgery to open his airways. They were home sounds. How calm is the house without breath.
You weren’t a brick, but you let us know when some came to the door. An sharp cortex or few Yaps, sometimes a strangled sound as if you were trying to speak. When you were very excited and it sounded almost like an aria. Out of key, but singing your heart.
I regret having cheated by calling the bell. It was the only way. You knew better than coming when it was called. You came when it suited you. Or when I fought a carrot. The bulldog road.
You stayed together when it was time to leave. You knew it would come, possible. However, that aspect when I was renting. Worse, the insult of the snow, the indignation of Aguanieve. What patiently you stayed there while I put on your rain. I hated him, but he hated to obtain more laws.
Where did you go? He has been getting used to sleeping forever all those months. I don’t believe in heaven, but I want to believe in that earth in somewhere or more of Winbow for you, dear friend. Where there is a great red ball with your name. And you expect, patiently, clarifying your throat, so that I come to throw it.
I miss you, my muse. You inspired me to write a book. I’m still working on it, but I hope to finish it soon. It will dedicate you to you and all the French ones I have loved.
Give a hug to Humphrey from me. All my love
METRO.
