For the first time in months, I did what I wanted: I spent a Sunday afternoon with KiKi instead of a bunch of fools dancing and drinking.
I surprised him when I entered; he was dozing off while watching the cartoon channel. I showed the huge tin of rigatoni, beef, garlic, and red sauce, but-as always-he looked away. He still looks good for 17. We played around a bit and then I said, "Yummy, yummy?", our code for eating and he licked his lips. While I prepared his bowl, he dutifully stayed in the livingroom, watching; he never begs.

After lunch I picked him up to the couch and he just stared at me as I pet him, which if you knew KiKi is uncharacteristic. He was always aloof, never affectionate (he slept at the bottom of the bed unless there was a thunderstorm), and would go for the finger or toe of anyone he didn't know. So, it was nice, but disturbing.

Towards the end there were lots of kisses, but the sad part was when I picked up my cap to leave (THE sign that departure is close). He grabbed my cap with his teeth and kept tugging on it. I almost cried.