My hand, wrapped around the small, yet rough paw of my dog.
I watch her sleep through my closed eyelids. I lay awake, she lies asleep. The only reason I know this is because of her breath. In, wait, out, wait. Seconds after seconds. Breath in. Breath out. I wish to be with her in the dreamland where possibilities are endless. Where the world doesn’t have boundaries that are uncrossable. I wish.
In, wait, out, wait.
Her little toes flinch and flick in my hand. She has nightmares quite often. I wonder if they are nightmares or just fast-forward dreams. Still, I wake her.
Her brown eyes glare into mine. She has life yet lived, as do I. Her little brain holds so much. Memories of a past home. Memories of before I knew her, before she was here, in my home, my bedroom, on top of my sheets, holding my hand. I wonder what it was like for her. Did she have to starve? Did she have owners who lost her? The tales of the rescue are endless. The story she knows no more.
In, wait, out, wait. Breath.
Her nose is black. There’s not even a spot of pink or white. I wonder if the creator decided on that. I wonder if her mother loved her as my mother loves me.
Luna; we named her after the moon. That, and a character from a story. If you know the story, you know who. Whimsical, different, unique, universal.
Her fur is white with dark spots across her back and tummy. She has her bandana tied in a knot around her neck. I picked that. Olive green because the purple split.
She came to me in the spring of 2017. She was two years old and I was twelve. The thought; of getting a dog, was what got me through a dark patch. Once we got her, more and more dark patches became light, because I had her to hold onto. She is a blessing in my life. I love this.
I love her.
In, wait, out, wait.
I wonder where her last breath will be. I hope I will be there. I want to walk all the roads with her. Good, bad. I hope she’s not alone when she passes. I don’t think anyone should be alone while they die. I would worry on and on about if she missed me if she was thinking about all the things we didn’t get to do yet. I don’t know if dogs have that complex of thoughts. It’s not proven right or wrong. I hope she understands.
I hold my dog’s paw while I sleep, the comfort to make me remember the time where the dark didn’t scare me. She can do that. She brings me a comfort I didn’t know I could get back. Anxious, alone, afraid, no more because of her. I know when she’s here, she knows when I need her. She’s in my corner, all the time. I never have to worry about her leaving me because I know she won’t. If I open my front door and let her walk out, she’ll walk back in if I don’t follow her. She only goes where I go. I love that about her.
She is precious.
She brings life to a room with her sweet movements. She deserves an award for best dog. She spends time loving on every person she meets. I wonder if everyone loves her as much as I do. I know some don’t. Body language says it all. Instead of loving on her, they move back. I don’t know if it’s because of past experiences with dogs, or because they’re actually scared of my Luna, even though there’s nothing to be scared of.
I hold her paw, tracing the outline of each little patch of rough, extra padded skin. Sleep. In, wait, out, wait.