Searching for Kobe

It is hard to anticipate how the pet left behind will adapt to a pet lost. I came home tonight to a hopeful dog, eternally grateful for my return, and set out to clean the areas of my apartment that carried a residual scent of the days happenings.

I opened the door wide on a windy cool night, the breeze carrying a warmth, a reprieve from our recent cold spell. I had just taken the febreze bottle to the rug and mopped the floor with the scent of basil followed by a mixture of vinegar and water. Quinn was right, the most difficult part of the process was unearthing the bucket and mop from closet storage. There really never is a good place to stash these cleaning items out of sight… in a one bedroom apartment.

As I stood looking through the broad windows into my brightly lit apartment, a little diorama containing my belongings, I observed Jazz with tears in my eyes. She had deserted her bed and walked down the hall, now she was returning. Ears perked, she walked into the kitchen, nose to the ground. Unsatisfied, she walked into the living room sniffing the chair, my bags, peering onto the couch and then under the couch. She paused and then continued her pursuit, sniffing the coffee table, peering around the sides of furniture, looking to the window covered with the roman shade and stopping. Her head turned and she peered at me outside with an inquisitive look.

She then located Chicken and carried him to her bed with a squeak.

In the coming week(s), Jazz and I will be searching for Kobe. Expecting his chatter, always the conversationalist. Slowly we will grow accustomed to his absence but for now, we’ll believe he’s napping behind the window covered with the roman shade.