When I’m feeling awful, nothing helps more most of the time than a cuddle with my boy. When I shattered my arm nearly six years ago and was home for three weeks, he was pretty much attached to my side the whole time.
And as I’ve been ill lately, he’s spent a lot of time next to me (he’s staring at me right now!), trying to make sure I’m OK. Between that sweetness and his goofiness, he always finds a way to make me feel better.
And that makes me happy.