Two bikes on the back, kayak on the roof and everything else sandwiched in between.
He said it all fits, like a clown car.
The cats are puzzled, the room is open for cat business, but there's nothing to sniff or in Gus's case, steal.
There's no one to let them in and out all day while I'm at work, feed them lunch, and play with them.
Lucy lays on the radiator, arms stretched over her head waiting for the underarm stroke.
Gus lays on the table hoping for an ice cube in the water bowl.
Well, I'm going to miss him too.
I've been spoiled.
And I'm def going to miss living with someone so
play task oriented, that on the first snow day of 2013, with the government shut down, schools closed, buses barely running, work cancelled, suits up and heads off to a sliver of beach, down a cliff, somewhere in Southern Maryland, to hunt for shark teeth.
And you thought they didn't make them like that anymore.
You go boy.
But come back when you can.
xo Jane and the kittens.