Cuddled into covers even on the warmest of days.
Not concerned about anything except maybe a motorcycle flying by on our gravel road.
Soft and furry and smelling like sunshine and greenies and flea shampoo and some questionable things they rubbed themselves on in the grass.
Dogs are available.
They have time enough for everything and they only hurry when its fun.
They sleep full out.
They run full out.
They love full out.
They squabble full out.
They cuddle full out.
They eat full out.
Sweet little Lucy is past eleven now. Same as she ever was except now she needs help onto the couch and down from the car and she wants to be carried on any walk longer than around the house to check on the status of the cats' food. She still likes to wolverine Frankie, her brother. She still likes to hide under the pillow and still doesn't care that you can see all of her except for her face. She still likes a pillow on the floor and a stranger at the door.
Full out Lucy. Full out Lucy.