Just when I think Tugboat is really slowing down, he doesn't, especially some nights when I'm really slowing down for the day. Our biorhythms aren't always in sync, but we make adjustments, especially when I yell "Shut up!" Then I feel guilty. I like it when Digby can get him to play. But I must remember that someday when he's gone I'll miss being pestered. Maybe not every single time, but I'll miss rubbing his wrinkly forehead.
I think I will have to give him a forehead rub when I get home from work.
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