It's nonsensical, I know, but it feels like when we left our house, we left Mozart behind. Hubby said that's not true, he's in our memory, and that's always with us, but it still feels like we abandoned him. We have all these memories of him in that house. That's where he played, lived, slept. We have memories of him dashing around the corner, up the stairs, into bedrooms, peering between banisters. His fur was still everywhere, and probably his scent. I know the exact spot where he collapsed and died.
We still miss him so much, and I still expect him to appear any minute now.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
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