My Baby Boy
I am pleased to say that Clyde’s birthday yesterday was also (mostly) uneventful. The same day my little guy turned 6 years old, I came home to find a mostly intact but decidedly ex baby bird on the carpet.
As I disposed sobbily of the sad little unfledged body (to be fair, he likely fell from the nest and Clyde just delivered him to the house) in the woods, it occurred to me that the body count has dropped severely since Roscoe disappeared. It’s been months since I came home to a deconstructed bird or a former squirrel, or was woken up by a midnight mouse chase.
I would happily clean up bodies with the regularity of a Manhattan morgue worker if it meant I got Roscoe back. Clyde’s birthday will always be bittersweet since Roscoe is no longer here to share it with him.
Six months after losing the Mysterious Mr. Roscoe, I still miss his stealthy but remarkable presence in my life. Slinking through the house, always taking the route under the stairs. Sleeping on my pillow. The unique and delicious scent of his rough, yet soft fur: cold woods, a touch of pine resin, fresh air and warm Roscoe. How he had a white heart pattern on his chest and loved to stretch out extravagantly and have his narrow little belly rubbed, the only undignified thing he ever did.
It does make me realize though that Roscoe had a wilder nature than Clyde. He spent a lot of time in the woods and his love of hunting probably led to his loss, but perhaps he died the way he lived, much like our beloved Schatzi when she decided to leave us.
As for the birthday boy, he too has been changed by the loss of his brother. He spends more time at home and needs more cuddling than ever. He can often be found sitting on my desk, staring off into the woods, even when the doors are wide open and he could go into the woods himself. I believe he saw what happened to Roscoe or somehow knows. At a minimum, he misses the twin he shared the first five years of his life with.
I am thankful that Clyde is staying closer to home, and thankful for his sweetness to balance Audrey’s spiciness. He will always be my baby boy.
A YEAR AGO: I was limpy.