Oh man, doesn’t Mile 21 correlate with hitting the wall when you run a marathon?
That is about where I am now. My husband took the kids out to lunch to get them out of my hair, and it’s strangely silent in the house. The dishes are piled up, the china with the dog food waiting patiently in the sink to be cleaned. In just a bit.
Apollo and Brody are keeping me company, like they always do. Apollo looks the same as he did 9 years ago. He is aging quite gracefully. When I adopted him, he was a teeny 8 week old kitten with big yellow eyes and a crusty nose. I brought him home to Nuke, also newly moved in, except Nuke was 10, an elderly coonhound in need of crate training. 6 months later, Callie was adopted.
Apollo was with us for our first house, our marriage, a new kitten, three dogs dying, two children being born to torture him, his companion disappearing, and now a puppy to chase him. It just keeps getting worse for him. I should do something kind for the elder statesman of the house. He’s been good to us.
What would be a really nice treat to spoil him with? A sweet bed? Cat tree? Lay it on me. I have another bead to give away too but I’m too tired to come up with a good reason so, uh, tell me why you deserve said bead.