And white cotton-candy fluff woven into the carpet, illuminated by the brittle winter sunshine creeping across the living room floor. The last tufts of our Gimli, reminding us of the way that he filled each and every corner of our home, and left his fur balls everywhere, too. These knots of fluff (enough to stuff a pillow) are at once unnerving, causing excessive eye-rolling and bittersweet, too, leading to eyes filled with sentimental tears.
That silly old fellow with his handle bar mustache and affinity for eating twigs, was both exasperating and endearing. How many times did I scold him for barking at the front door, protecting us from the nefarious leaves that dared to skitter across the driveway? And yet those round brown eyes could still melt my resolve, which would result in a joy ride to school with him riding shotgun, tongue lolling out and tail wagging.
We'll miss you, Buddy. Your tap dancing in the laundry room as you waited impatiently for your breakfast. Your penchant for the mozzarella cheese that inevitably fell to the floor while Brett made pizza on Saturday nights. Your hoover-like attempts to keep the floor under the kitchen table crumb-free. Your furry mohawk that stood straight up, refusing to be tamed or trimmed. And your tentative scratches at the front door when you ended up on the wrong side fence.
Slowly we pack up what you left behind ... your tattered rope, your half-filled box of treats, your fur-covered bed and your worn green leash. And what are we left with? A large, four-legged void; sweet, sweet memories ...
And a lot of gossamer fur.
Linking up with Write at the Merge this week - inspired by the words gossamer and affinity. And by our dear boy, Gim.