I walk in and, once again
the bedding is all in a Close Encounters Of The Third Kind mountain
at the foot of the bed.
I point at my dog.
"What did you DO?" I don't really mean it, but he
takes me seriously and curls all sorrowful.
"Baby," I say, "Noooo. Mama's not mad."
I sit on the bed I've only had since November
(beds are expensive),
take his little face between my hands and smile.
I am so grateful for a nice place to sleep and for
a sweet dog-friend to muss it.
"I kissa you face," I tell him softly, and then I do, and he wags.
Little mischief maker,
I love you so.
for Wordy Thursday.
Zacky Peanut sleeps with me every night and is quiet as a bug--though he IS a bed hog. Every time I move over a little, he claims the space and eventually has me on the edge with his little self getting all the rest! But during the day he likes to go in there and do one of two things: either he lays his head adorably on the pillow and has a nice nap, OR he digs at the covers until they are all in a pile at the end of the bed. Why? Who knows.