I didn't think it would happen. I thought Hank was too wild and playful and, well, clueless. I assumed Sophie would become exasperated and resign herself to an old age absent of the ritual that defined her daily life for nine years: the patient and meticulous grooming of a labrador retriever's head and ears. But I was too cynical or lacked faith or mourned Emma too deeply myself. At long last realization has dawned and Hank has learned that Sophie's ministrations are not invitations to engage in a wrestling match but are moments to be still and quiet and accept the gentle motherly love of a feline. And Hank's acceptance of the ritual has created a togetherness that is expressed even outside the act of daily grooming.
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