I woke up this morning about fifteen minutes before my 0500 alarm clock was set to go off and I cried. Duke’s little head peered down over the edge of the bed at me, knowing that I was awake, which is not super surprising as I’ve been sleeping on a cot next to the bed in an attempt help with some of my back issues, and the cot is not a quiet thing. It took less than a little wave of my hand before Duke did his lazy slide down from the bed and onto my sleeping bag and pillow. Grabbing his fluffy black fur with both hands and pulling him in tight, I cried. He quickly became wet with tears as I softly sniffled, quietly trying to breath in his smell, to hold onto this moment for as long as a moment can be held onto.
I hope that these feelings are just an overreaction to the potential for some bad news, I’m not ready for the alternative.