Senta

Celie told me yesterday that Senta might be coming to the end of the road which is so heartbreaking. She is the introspective one of the two big, and I mean big, wolf size big, German Shepard girls who have been such a constant for me ever since I moved in here going on three years now. My first greets on opening a BB door.

Eve (her sister) has always been the one you don’t want to fool with, the one you want to make sure doesn’t get overly annoyed by the traffic of the house but also the one who wants only to slam my hip for ear rubs, insistently, when I come home. Bruce was the same way, always front and center, always slamming my legs and feet (adjusting for size) for equal ear rubs and another always first greet. He was the Alpha cat, a one who I neglected to write words for at his passing a little while ago though. I’m so sorry for that Bruce. I just couldn’t. But any cat who can keep a large set of dogs at bay in a mud room simply by just sitting in the doorway was a REAL cat in my book. And one with a Billy Idol sneer. Miss ya Bruce. It was good look by the way.

Senta though is just the one that wants only a hello before heading off to do Senta things. She’s the one that when I come to feeding the gang on occasion, on some mornings, that you have to search for, usually having already grabbed a comfy spot on the front lawn in the sun, a bowl held the only reason to get her to move. I’m surely going to be a coward again when it comes to the goodbyes, as I was with Wynne. Though I’ve always been the one that was there in the past for my dearly missed friends, Benny and Shana girl, Shoes and Grayson, Blink, I grow a little more weary now of the moment. Kind hearts like theirs and Senta’s are getting harder to think of letting go of. Especially now. When finding such can be so difficult.

There’s been loss since I moved in here, Blue (Oh, big Blue) the one, who if you got approval from you were golden and Chubs and those little prairie dog stand ups and Dolly who always had me singin’ a Broadway tune in my head whenever I would say “hello”, Bunny with the bent ear, Bruce. But there is also life. A living barking, squawking, meowing even silent meowing chaos that is glorious in it’s annoying noise, a noise that pricks Bella’s ear and mine upstairs but a one I don’t know if I could live without now.

I hope there is more time to just lay on the front lawn in the sun Senta. At least some.

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