Fuss is restive tonight, starting up crying for no discernible reason, inconsolable until I put him over my shoulder and march him around.
His travails are easier for me to take now, because he can be comforted. I don't mind the getting up and the random intensity of it, as long as my efforts create some visible effect. When he would howl and howl, it made you want to push the big red button.
He's finally asleep on the big cushy armchair, under the blue cloud blanket, I can hear him breathing and shifting.
The owl is back in the tree, calling to the moon, thinking.
No comments:
Post a Comment