Return
As soon as they let him near her, it is all over. The world stops existing beyond a flurry of sounds — there are barks and dancing tails and Jowd's slight gesture, his quiet permission to go on. The world is Miss Kamila.
It is Miss Kamila's smile and Miss Kamila's face, unfolding at the end of the long line of years. It is the unaware music of her voice, to which he answers by pouring his soul in his barks. It is deafening joy to fill his lungs, and nothing matters much anymore, not even that sweet Miss Lynne cannot understand.
He barks everything, barks she cannot read, for her little ears only; and the black kitten laughs with his eyes, somewhere near the wall. They will have time to meet again — they will share paws and fur, caught in long afternoon naps. No need to hurry, no need to discuss. He sniffs Miss Kamila's new scent, renewed with love she didn't get back then.
It is Miss Kamila and their promise, and he does not care that it was lost in the waves of time. It was his Miss to wait for him, wait until he would return — he, too, has waited and waited again, even more than he knows himself. Now that he licks her cheeks, that her tiny hands are in his fur, he can afford to forget as much as she did.
No need to worry, he barks to Miss Kamila. That she doesn't remember does not count — no matter where from, in what world, how long. He has come back to her, and that is more than enough.
To my sweet friend, aka the newest enthusiastic member of the Top Pomeranian fan club.