Mood:
blueTopic: "Quittin' Time" (8)
At 6:15 this morning there was no sound of toenails on the floor. In truth, for the first time in 38 years there was no canine presence to waken Frodo and begin him on his way. So Frodo took a cup of coffee with him and paid a visit to Mick, the Wonder Dog.
At 5:00 o'clock PM yesterday, the magnificent heart finally stopped beating and the silence was deafening. There was no discomfort, not a whimper, just the cessation of respiration to go with the reflective eyes and the sheer bulk of a lifeless body. It was a moment that Frodo knew was imminent.
A cureless disease had spread its tentacles into the cognitive and control systems, causing imbalance and insecurity in the noble friend of Frodo. Still, he struggled on to meet each and every assignment and requirement of life in the Shire. He was meticulous, and the fact that an accident would occur even under these circumstances was abhorrent to him. What troubled him was that there was no other to whom he could transfer responsibility for the care and protection of the Hobbits, except for a cat and a bird, but that was not the same and he knew it.
Frodo spoke to his friend this morning and assured him that there will be another, but Sam will need some time. It was with Sam that he would sit upright in the rear seat of the old station wagon and cast his noble head into the cool wind that launched his ears like gossamer wings. Frodo's search will commence immediately, apparently with great care for the legacy that will be preserved, intact. Frodo then turned to other graves, and told them that Mick, the Wonder Dog, was now there to join in their games. Frodo, he assured them, will someday follow.
This day will be spent arranging and beautifying that priceless ground. It will always reflect upon the good hearts that there lay. That, notes Frodo, is all that he can do to treat a broken heart. That, and to hold Sam closely and mix their tears together.
Adieu little brother.
