Goodnight, Sweet Prince

Living Life Forte

parker

Richard Parker was acting out of sorts when I visited my adopted family at Christmas.  His mom was worried about his lethargy. He simply wasn’t his usual commanding self.  I went in to see my buddy, and he lifted his head for few pets and gave me a purr.  He looked at me through slitted eyes and nuzzled my hand. But his usual robustness was gone.  This was the fellow who always gave me a purr-rumph and came quickly when I called, « Where’s my Friend? »  He was the one who sat on his Stanford blanket between us when we ate spaghetti off tv trays and watched The Walking Dead.  When I stayed the night on a cot in the living room, it was Parker who slept alongside me, moving up to bump my hand should I awake from a curious dream. He was his momma’s boy, but he made sure to care for…

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