This morning Dusty is declaring his need for assurance by claiming a spot by my side, pressed in as close as possible, trying to tuck himself tightly against me. Usually he provides some simple supportive care when he senses that one of us feels sad or ill. However, it’s his turn now, having ingested unknown culprits on his first trip outside; his stomach revolted against him, forcing him to retch the contents in a lump on our kitchen floor. After cleaning up the mess, I gathered him in my arms, and found a spot on the family room couch. Since then, Dusty hasn’t budged from his place of reassuring relief.
Thankfully I could pull my laptop within reach and type this message without disturbing him. As I moderate my movements to a slow and silent pace, I find I am responding as if I were one of his tennis balls that had just rolled in, coming to a stop, resting peacefully.
This morning I am here for Dusty, offering reassurance simply by my presence.