Yet it shows Connie bright eyed and alert, and Reynaldo asleep. My little beige demon, my skinny wildman, sleeps more and more. More and more often. More and more soundly.
He's 15 years old. That's the equivalent of a 75 year old human.
He still enjoys food and he's mad about cuddles. He gets bored if I sleep too long and knocks things over to get my attention. And, at least twice a day that I witness, he chases Connie around. So he's not in any distress today.
But I can see it. He's fading.
Just like with John, it hurts me to see this.
Things hit me harder these days, and stay with me longer. I don't know why I can't shake the blues.
