Darling boy.
My Sparrow is ill, and I think he has the flu. I make him come sit with me for a while when I come home from work, usually, and I hold him and we talk about our days, and then he squirms like a teenager and says, “Mo-om, let me go!” So I let him go. Last night when I came home he met me at the door and when I squatted down to greet hum he pressed his head against my knees and squeaked with sadness. When I pulled him up and the bed next to me (a move he hates since he’s not generally allowed up there and it makes him feel guilty) he snuggled in close to me and cried gently. This morning he went to the vet and spent an hour there and they couldn’t find anything wrong with him. This worried me so I came home to be with him and work from here and stroked his sweet little face. He followed me all around the house for a while, sighing unhappy sighs whenever we sat somewhere, so we came back upstairs and I tucked him into his own bed. Now he’s resting and I’m sitting beside him working, realizing my eyebrows are sore from being pinched in worry. My poor, sweet buddy.