He waited.
On the floor by my bed, for my alarms to announce sleeping time was done, he waited.
He waited.
By the back door, for me, dripping in my towel, to feed him breakfast and let him out, he waited.
He waited.
Outside the the bedroom door, for the very scary blow dryer to be silenced, he waited.
He waited.
On the couch, in my favorite spot, while I gathered my things and told him about everything that was going to happen today, and everything I wanted to happen, and everything that would never happen, he waited.
He waited.
When he heard my car, next to the door, knowing he can't stand behind the door while I try to open it, he waited.
He waited. While I dropped my stuff and opened the back door, tail slowly wagging, he waited.
He waited. While I told him what happened, and what didn't happen, and what will never happen, he waited.
He waited. While I talked to him from my room, changing out of work and into comfy, he waited.
He watched. Tail wagging again, while I nuked some some food for me, scooped some food for him, and talked some more, he watched.
And then.
Then he was done.
Then he was done waiting.
He rolled on the floor.
He tossed his toy.
He chased his tail.
Until I was smiling.
Until I gave in.
Until I slid to the floor, back against the wall.
Until nose to nose we sat.
Until sliding down next to me, he curled as close as can be without squishing me, one big paw across my legs.
Until I stopped.
Until I stopped reviewing all the stupid little things no one but me remembers.
Until I realized it doesn't matter.
Until I was okay.
Then he moved his paw and let me up. Then we ate dinner curled on the couch, while watching reruns of Friends.
And once I was settled, cozy and full.
He snuffled, he yawned, he stretched.
He slid off the couch and did doggie rounds, checking on the house.
Doing doggie things, chewing doggie toys, eating doggie dinner.
Always where he can see.
Always where he can watch.
Soon, it will be bedtime.
He will wait.
He will watch.
He will insistantly stare.
Until I finally give up and get ready to sleep.
I will lock the doors
and check the doors
and check the doors again.
I will turn off the lights
and check the lights
and check the lights again.
He will wait.
He will watch.
Until I'm cozy in bed.
Until the pillows are perfect and quilts snuggled up.
He will wait for an invite to come up.
When no invitation is offered, he will sigh, turn twice and settle on the floor, as close as can be.
I will settle.
I will sleep.
He will patrol our kingdom throughout the night.
He will end each round with a sigh and a flop, so close that the bed frame shakes.
He will wait for my alarms to announce sleeping time is over.
