I'll be in in a minute, dear Last night at about 11 I was up in my attic workroom. Trilby kept coming up and fussing at me like he wanted something, but I couldn't figure out what. He'd just been fed and watered and had his litter box cleaned. If I tried to pet him or pick him up he'd shy away. When I did go down to my room, Trilby was sitting on my bed, waiting. Which shed light on the matter. He'd decided it was our bedtime and he was impatient for me to come to bed so he could settle in for the night.
← While talking about my bad hearing tonight at supper, ||
Springsteen takes center stage for the summer at the Rock'n'Roll Hall of Fame →