What not to say...

This afternoon, Myrtle awoke to find that I had pressed my forehead against hers on the pillow, my curls tangled with her own locks.  I thought she would find it comforting, especially since my puppy momma (for no reason I can fathom) just loves my snoring.  However, the FIRST words out of her mouth were: "Your breath stinks!"

Without even giving me a kiss or thanking me for snuggling with her or showing the slightest bit of attention to me, Myrtle rolled over, reached for her computer, and logged on to Amazon.com, muttering about ordering toothpaste and a toothbrush for me.

SIGH.

You know, Myrtle has terrible nightmares, and I work real hard to give her lots and lots and lots of different kinds of comfort in bed.  I chew bones on her belly, I press my back against hers, I curl up at her feet, I hold onto her arm with my paws, I sleep with my face in the palm of her outstretched hand, and I serve as a pillow for her.  And, yet, after working that hard and even thinking up a brand new way to comfort her, my reward was an insult!
 
I do not feel much loved today.


This is my life with Myrtle.  Amos Adams signing off.