[10] The Lion Has Lost His Roar
He hops onto my lap after his morning meal, offering up a massive tabby head for petting, scratching, and stroking. He opens his jaw like he always has and mouths his formidable greatness, now with no sound...18 years...or 19, he’s been through all the moves—the country house, the rented room, the floating home—orchards, solitary, & sea. He rises before dawn, eats in the dark, drinks and drinks, his ginger coat disheveled, his body growing thin, his roar gone silent. But as he sits across my lap and my work comes to a stop, in this moment, we all know who is king.
Little Bud, aka Cap’n Orange, chilling with the Buk
Copyright © 2019 by Guy Biederman. All rights reserved.
Little Bud, aka Cap’n Orange, patrolling the houseboat porch
Copyright © 2019 by Guy Biederman. All rights reserved.
