My blue-clad legs and bare feet. I love how Spottie must touch my skin with his feet, if at all possible.
But then I had to get up. Which is always difficult, especially when your right leg has now gone entirely to sleep and feels like a chunk of wood that also hurts like ever-living-hell. I’m blaming the weird leg-nerve damage from my fucked up spine on the fact it takes longer for my leg to wake up than it does for me to realise it has gone to sleep.
In any case: they were on me because I was sitting in front of a fire.
Spot is an old man, and I can guess that his nose doesn’t work as well as it used to. It’s my only explanation for the way he decided to curl up – face in his ‘brother’s’ butt. Mmm.
Brotherly love – even sans my legs as a nice warm moat against the world.