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It often ends in a tussle, I suppose to set the boundries right again, but for that 3 minutes or so, there is connection. It amazes me, this ritual of caretaking, nearly in spite of themselves.
I see my Brahms aging and it makes me panic to think of it. She's 17. You'd never know it, but lately she just sits and looks at me. I don't know quite what she's thinking. Okay, I know, she's a cat. Why the heck should I know what she's thinking? But, generally I do. And, she a little more sensitive to the cool temps this winter.
They've taken to putting their paws on my left leg when I'm spinning and it's so sweet it makes me wanna cry.