Bo

I am tempted to say that I had my best dream of Bo. I was moving the rug in the big room, and Bo was in the way, but the eskie easily catches the drift of what I want to do and moves away. Then I go to him and lie down next to him, and I play with him, petting him, tickling him, as I have never played with him before in my dreams. It was the dream I wanted to have when he died nine years ago, but which never really came to me. Almost.

There's a catch.

Bo was smaller, as small as a cat. And the way I played with him in this dream was exactly the way I play with the cats. With perhaps one exception. I think, not being wholly sure of my memory of the dream, that part of my play included letting my fingers go in his mouth, which is something I would never ever do with a cat.

So, in the end, I am not sure that I want to say that this was indeed the dream of Bo that I have always hoped for, but at least it is a big step in that direction.

Lately, I find myself pining for Bo more. I fancy that this might be because I am closing in on my own end. And, at the end, it is Bo I want. I want to hug my best friend again, at least one more time, before I too am lost in oblivion.

Twitter

Whoa, for a moment there, when I opened Twitter this morning, I thought I got my first real follower. But I guess it was just another spam account.

Quote

MSNBC’s Stephanie Rule: “My source didn’t say Tillerson called Trump a ‘moron.’ My source said he called Trump a ‘fucking moron.’"

-- Mike Signorile

Twitter

Oh, yes, 'night mode' is where it's at. On Twitter. So pretty, dark blue, white lettering, light-bright blue links.

I'd rather have a dozen followers that I click with banter-wise, but I will take what I can get.