Bruce rustles my cows

Bruce is my neighbor who fell in love with my cows years ago when first I moved them from back yard to front. He passes them most mornings as he walks from his house to his other garage across the street from me. He has left funny poems on my door about the cows and has amused us both by moving them around the yard always taking care not to place them where I will fall over them upon returning home in the dark. A thoughtful rustler.

Bruce raced Porches professionally in another life and has them housed in a temperature controlled garage. He has a room waiting in the Smithsonian in WA DC for his art collection upon his demise (me too-ha!). But the favorite noodles in his soup of gems are the cows and I am so grateful that they now reside in his care. That love of silly is a connection we have shared and has provided us moments of deep laughter in the street between our homes. 

I went into the bookstore and the florist and the druggist the other day and all said Bruce is désolé that I am moving so I must think of a bit of a way to keep us connected. A funny postcard in the mail perhaps? Any thoughts?