Rudy won't greet me at the door any more. He won't flip his tail into my open mouth (I was going to say face, but figured I'm better tell the truth). I won't get to see him make that magnificent jump onto the armoire. His body won't be pressed against my legs at night. He won't play with his feather toys. He won't sit for hours watching the wildlife outside. He won't make a mess of Art's African violets. My drinking glass will never be tipped over.
Sometimes I think the whole thing was a dream, such a short life. And then I remember my beautiful red boy and his infectious grin, and it was all real. I am glad I could cherish every minute, not to mention his passion for life with my Twitter pals.
We all miss you, Rudy