I haven't seen Frankie in a week. He had gotten into the eight to five, Monday through Friday, routine - but last Friday he never showed, and all this week my window ledges have looked so empty without his little face peering in at me. He has the cutest eyes. Daniel heard him squawking from the neighbor's yard the other day, so I'm guessing he's okay.
Did we do something wrong? He seemed happy, seemed to enjoy our conversations and the birdseed I sprinkled on the ledge each morning when he showed up. And whenever he asked, I filled the pockmarks of the rock ledge in front of the house with water for him to drink.
Maybe the commute each morning and night got to be too much for him in this heat. I can only hope that's all it is, and that he'll come visit again once the temperature drops back down into the 90s. I guess that's understandable.
But I miss him, miss his company, miss knowing he's napping on the dining room ledge while the baby squirrels steal his leftover seed, miss him running up the walk after me, chattering all the way.
I'm glad I didn't take his visits for granted. If he doesn't come back, at least I have good memories of the time we had together. But I sure will miss him.