Read to me...
Simon loved to be read to. In the evenings by the fire, when I read aloud to the Main Muse, he would lie down on my foot, and stay there, chin on paw, ears erect, for as long as I would sit and read.
Any book would do. Simon wasn't into rhetoric. Books for him were all about the voice. He fixated on human speech they way I fixate on the music of a tumbling creek, or on any sound that speaks of presence and continuance.