Sonny

My buddy, my bubbies, my baby.
Whatever stars aligned or coincidences brought us together, I’m forever grateful.
You were a million things in a small package of densely packed fur.
You were innocent, sleeping while clutching the bars of your cage with one hand.
Covered in dust after your weekly dust baths, sneezing.
Always excited to hear the sounds of the treat bag, manically running around.
You were funny, throwing food crumbs as you ate.
Not too long ago you were jumping on my shoulders and nibbling my ears.
The way you seemed to shapeshift, always in a new pose that made my day.
You were brave, staring face to face with every new animal you met no matter how many times larger in size they were to you.
And above all you were endlessly curious – you were brave because you were so curious.
It breaks my heart that I can no longer kiss you on the head before I go to bed like I always used to
or scratch you under your chin
or see you play and zoom in the apartment.
How am I supposed to sleep with this silence? – not hearing your thumping and chewing, the sound of you running on your wheel at who knows what time in the night.
I wish we had more time together – if I knew what would happen, I would have stayed home, i would have let you play on the couch again.
I think about the time I woke up to you crawling on me in the middle of the night after I accidentally left the door to your cage open. It could have been a disaster, but you didn’t make your escape, you just climbed up all the way onto the bed where I was.
So I’d like to imagine somewhere exists in this vast blanket of time and space, where we can still find each other in that kind of gentle way, even in the dark and even in the middle of the night.
There will never be another you.
I love you my sweet and clever friend, and I’ll miss you.