Timothy was an expert in using pillows and chin-rests. Except when laying with his back against the arm of the sofa, on the bare leather, he’d always have a pillow or chinrest.
Often he’d fashion the pillow himself from the blanket he was using. Sometimes we understood and could help him, others he’d dig and turn, get out of puff and pick up bits of blanket corner.
In his office bed, especially after lunch, or if it was cold, he’d sit in his bed, then walk to behind my legs and try to “climb up” my legs. It was is way of asking for a tuck. I’d open the tartan hooded-gilet and wrap it around him in his bed. He’d fall down as the coat went around him to show which side he wanted the “pillow” (which I’d make by folding the dood, or he’d sometimes lean on Henry the penguin).
If he wasn’t happy, he would stay sitting up, and I’d have to represent the coat to try again. About once a week he’d settle for a minute, sigh, then get up and climb up my leg again for another go.
