I’m sitting outside on the patio in the sun. It’s not officially spring, but it’s beginning to feel like it. The sun’s warmth melts my legs like butter. I look up at the pale blue sky, taking it all in, then close my eyes, feeling the brightness through my lids. I wonder if I had double lidded eyelids like a dog if it would block out the brightness. I’ve wondered this since I was a child and first learned of the double lidded eyelid. It would explain a lot of the daytime napping.
The rest of my body melts, joining the pool of butter around my chair, as I let out a long sigh. The birds chirp away as they hang out in the bamboo that runs along the border of the backyard, blocking out the neighbors and the outside world. In the background of my mellow mood, four-legged footfalls approach from inside the house and join me outside on the patio.
“Raud?” Hamish’s soft voice says.
“Yes?” I say, opening my eyes and looking at his soft brown eyes surrounded in reddish brown fur.
“I thought I heard you sniffle so I brought you a tissue.”
In his mouth is the leading edge of a roll of toilet paper that unspools behind him, across the patio into the kitchen, and probably all the way back through the house to the toilet paper holder mounted in the bathroom wall.
“That’s very kind of you, Hamish. Thank you.”