|Espresso, "Ees cold today, thump!"|
|Espresso, "Cookies under the loafers my floof. You're not posting this!"|
Our weather gave us one more chance to play Winter. The fifty-five mile an hour winds howled and rattled everything they could. Then the skies cleared like they always do. In the meantime, I extorted all the cookies my hoomin tried to hide. I ask nicely, at first, but if I have to go nose to toes with him, I don't blink. And eventually, all I have to do is look at him sideways, and I hear the bag.
I don't mind getting all cozy under the extra loafer. My hoomin will scratch my back and the top of my head through the fabric, and it feels pretty good. I think he appreciates those moments we share in the morning, those little, tiny corrections to keep us on the sanity beam.
Good night, and good luck!