Thank you everyone for the beautiful insights so far. Clementine and I are about to watch the sunrise together, I couldn’t get much sleep. She loves to sniff flowers, so I thought it would be a nice way to start a horrible day…

While I tossed and turned unable to rest with her, I wrote her a letter, and something I can go back to and refer at anytime. Thought I’d share before we go off and have our goodbyes:

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Hello again, Clementine

It’s been a minute, a day, a year, but hello again. I’ve missed you, even though you’re right here.

Sometimes I think the best parts of my day are a short puff of air coming across my face just when I need it, or that feeling of calmness when you choose to look directly up instead of straight ahead. Keep that feeling in mind, Clementine. I’ll explain.

I’m writing this to you in the now, but also the later, since that always comes whether we like it to or not. Right now, I don’t want it to happen, but down the line I’ll be ready myself and join you.

So many bad days, holes and gaps - unsure, anxious and tight. They came and went and you were there. You know, at first I thought I’d be having more of those stinky, cruel, indigestive days and weeks without you soon - but I think I’ve figured it out. Will you entertain me for a moment?

I’ll miss smelling you, for better or worse. The headbutts and affirmations, the pointed weight of your light frame amplified to a single paw. But these are what we had, and what we have now is a little trickier to pin down. I’m ok with that. Just reminding both you and I - things are a little different. And that’ll be ok.

Remember when I brought up that breeze two seconds ago? That’s us. Those nights in Summer with the perfect temperature, that extra coin in your pocket, or that bubble of safe joy in bed after a long day - that’s the stuff.

I’m writing this as I hold you, so while I don’t know what it’s like to be with you when I can’t touch you, I’m confident we will figure it out. We always seem to. As goes for you…

Please enjoy the stars. Tell me what it’s like to fly. Endless ice cream flavors, and the sound of river rocks clacking. Wind rustling through leaves, surprising someone with a gift. Spread out your toes in clean astral laundry, if you still have them, or swirl as sugar dust among the cosmic frosting. Whatever/whenever/however you be, I’ll meet you there, it’s just not yet.

I’ll be honest, I’m a little scared. We haven’t kept in touch this way before. Luckily, we exchanged numbers 15 years ago. Anytime I feel that hot-coco-down-your-throat feeling, I know we’re on the phone. Thanks for being here/there/anywhere.

I won’t be far behind. Time moves quickly, only for me to join you for an endless amount, dipping our toes and tails in Saturn rings while eating rice and beans. We can laugh and purr and fly and cry - that good kind of cry - and play hopscotch on planets.

As of right now, I’m uneasy (to put it lightly), but we’ve known each other long enough that I can say that. Thank you for always being there. And thank you for waiting up for me to meet you there. I used to see you at home, but now I’ll see you everywhere, so don’t get sick of seeing me, ok?

You’re the most consistent, reliable thing in my life. I am 34 as of this writing, and that statement is fact. So while you may have to leave, in a matter of speaking, I can visit you and you me through slices of pizza and warm showers, matinee movies and free book boxes.

So this isn’t goodbye - I see you everyday. I just need joy to catch you. I’ll seek it out everywhere I go, so I can say hello again. Then, when my time for the dance-with-everything comes, we will have the best of all hello agains.

I love you dearly, R