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Remembering E.G.
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E.G. used to greet me when I came home from work. Every day he would be out front, under the rose bush, waiting for me. By the time I had driven down the block and made ready to turn into the driveway, he had roused himself from his slumbers and was sashaying down the row of bricks that edges my driveway. He timed it so that he was parked on the bricks where I opened my door when I had parked the car.

One day I was slow about getting out and he jumped from the ground, through the open window, into my lap. Scared the heck out of me, but he just purred and purred. Glad to see me? Or just hungry? Only the Feline Gods know.

I miss him still.

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