Meeting Love - Chapter 3
Chapter 3 Home is where the heart is
It was rather strange... Being trapped inside a little box on wheels with someone that I've known for so long, yet feel like I don't know them one bit... I knew what colour his adorable, cute purple fur, which he was bullied for, was... I knew that when he's uncontainable happy he'll run circles around me and bark like a crazy fluff... I know that when he's sad, he will try to keep his distance, not that I ever let that happen of course...
But I feet as though there is so much that I have never even thought about. The way he walks, the way he sits, the way he snuggles his tail for warmth... And yet I'm still deep, deep in love with him.
We rounded the corner to leave the airport and made our way to the cold, wet and rainy motorway that snaked over moorlands and between huge hills.
For a good five minutes we'd say in silence, as if neither of us existed. I kept glancing at him from the corner of my eye. I felt bad. Leaving him isolated. Leaving him alone in this new land. I opened my mouth to speak and his matched my every move.
"Your fur looks so soft..." "Your fur looks so soft..." With almost perfect synchronisation we speak. For a moment, we both go bright red, staring at each other. Then, before two moments pass, we burst out giggling. Knowing that we were absolutely made for each other seemed to relax my mate a little.
Soon, after resting my paw on the gear stick for a few moments, I find a petite, purple paw atop of mine. I look over at the beautiful ball o' fluff and smile.
"I love you Floofy...!" I say with a shy confidence. I loved the nickname we used... Floofy... I call him Floofy more than I call him Luis to be honest... "I love you Fluffybutt...!" My unsteady start was met with a warm glowing smile. My own nickname, might I add that it is not because my butt fur is overgrown, it was simply something cute said my somebody cuter that just sort of stuck!
After our slightly bumpy start, we were off! We talked and chatted and gossiped about everything. From the differences between England and Colombia, to our favourite foods, to our clothing choices.
As the weather seemed to clear and the mild sun beat down on the car, I was probably a little too chatty while driving, but what the hell, we had a lot of catching up to do!
After miles and miles and miles and miles of talking and laughing and the odd peck on the cheek; we pulled off the motorway and onto the main road towards the village in which we would call our home. What with it being only around half ten in the morning, traffic was very light and we sailed happily along the road, up and down a few snaking residential streets to finally come to a stop in a little cul-de-sac.
We reach the driveway, which runs alongside the ivy covered walls of the modest, semi-rural looking, hidden, cottage. A fairly tall, characteristically crumbling wall divides the sight and attention of those outside and those inside the garden and house. As we step from the car and onto the worn stone path of the driveway, my love looks around in awe at the natural British greenery. The two, large, trees arching over the driveway, giving shade in summer and shelter in winter.
I take him by the paw and lead him over to a perfectly-heighted white wooden gate-door, sat alone on the wall, surrounded by sprawling ivy and flowering climbing plants. Wrapping my other paw around the handle and pushing the catch down with my thumb, I push the gate open. His eyes seem to widen as he steps from the messy, characteristic, uncontrolled growth and into a beautifully organised and well-kept garden. The lawn, short cut and striped, was met by a raised patio, which created seating space and a path from the gate to the front door. All along the side of the wall was not crawling ivy, or some kind of crazy mess of natural plants, but a lovely bed of all the colours of the rainbow. Flowers, bushes, a little topiary, all neatly and carefully organised along the wall, raised about four foot from the ground and walled with stone. The opposite side of the garden was lined with a wonderful flowering hedge, about the height of the two-storey cottage. At the far end of the garden was a great willow tree, beautifully green and spreading all the way across the width of the garden, creating perfect refuge from the sun. Underneath one of the main branches was a wooden swing, connected with rope made to look like ivy. His eyes leapt all around the garden, then down to the cottage at the other end. The white and black, rustic, face to the building, accompanied with old-fashioned single glazed windows, with a lead lining, gave it an English countryside feel. The sun beat down on the entire garden; everything was illuminated in the natural warm glow, but the shade under the tree.
I give his paw a loving squeeze, leaning against his side. He rested his head on my shoulder and wrapped his tail around me, mine mirroring his movements. His cute curves, hugged and explored a little, buy my big bushy tail. He looks up to me from his cute angle, giving me an adorable look. He softly touches his lips against mine and our arms fold around one another.
My beautiful fox...