The shelter we got Pete from guesses that he was born on September 23. But I don’t want him to have been born the day Tricksey died.
The one where Pete tries on a pair of shorts.
Pete wakes up with the sun. So, about an hour before I want to get up. And then he starts getting into things – doing all the things he knows we don’t want him to do. So I feed him and let him run around on the screened porch while I close the bedroom doors and go back to sleep.
But he knows how to open pocket doors. And if he can’t open a door, he’ll just bang on it. He also knows how to close standard hinged doors. And so he’s locked himself in rooms, multiple times. Sometimes with Pepper.
The guardian of the running shoes is on duty.
Pete ponders the person crawling on the floor in front of him, during a rare moment of calm.