Snorffled

It’s not often I cry. Today was a rough day. During a moment of self-indulged weakness, Norm came to my side. He carefully (ox-like) climbed up and delicately laid down on me (like a drunken hippo). He snorffled my head, neck, and face (for those without Saint experience, “snorffling” is simultaneous snorting and snuffling), an effective diagnostic method he commonly relies upon. It is impossible to be snorffled and not giggle, especially when pinned and unable to escape or defend oneself. It turns out that nothing will spur on snorffling more than giggles.

Norm is good for the heart. Norm is good for me.