Gimli is 4 years old today. It's hard to imagine he used to look like this:
When he looks like this now:
He's my constant companion at home. He has the magical power of disappearing when there's teeth to be brushed, but somehow manages to appear when that drawer in the fridge opens and the cheese paper crinkles.
He's soft and squishy and the top of his head has a supernatural power of being the softest, silkiest part of his body. It's always ready for kisses.
His eyes are full of life, so much so I find myself looking into them often. His feet still have the pinky puppy spots and I doubt they'll ever turn fully black.
We have our language, him and I. He wuffs and grumbles and I answer him. I carry on mini-conversations and he looks at me with those eyes again as if he understands.
Oh, he loves Mike and all. They have their bonding ways and they wrestle and play fetch.
At the end of the day though, he's mine.