Aug. 16th, 2009

jazzfish: a black-haired man with a big sword. blood stains the snow behind (Eddard Stark)
In memoriam. Walked in to say hello to the presumably-sleepy beastie this afternoon before going to [livejournal.com profile] rislyn's for gaming, and she was nestled in the bottom of the cage, perfectly still.

She had a rough life to start with. I like to think I made things a little better for her: room to run and dig, a home that was mostly free from curious cats, food and water and perhaps not enough attention. I could tell she'd started to get used to me because she'd no longer bolt immediately when I opened the cage, she'd wait until my hand was fairly close.

She was adorable when she nibbled open sunflower seeds, or when she'd sit and groom herself. She seemed to like climbing on hands when we let her run around the box while her cage was being cleaned, and she'd occasionally talk to us ('tk-tk-tk-tk'). She was hard to photograph, unfortunately, mostly i've got fuzzy pictures of the already-fuzzy beastie.

I miss her.

The room is still warm
As its windows fill with snow
The wheel is at rest.

--John M. Ford

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jazzfish: Jazz Fish: beret, sunglasses, saxophone (Default)
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Adventures in Mamboland

"Jazz Fish, a saxophone playing wanderer, finds himself in Mamboland at a critical phase in his life." --Howie Green, on his book Jazz Fish Zen

Yeah. That sounds about right.

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