by Jeff Oaks
I was waking up yesterday morning and reached for the dog as I usually do. His back was to me as it usually is. Usually he just lifts his head, looks over his shoulder to see if I’m actually getting up or just up, that condition which can take up to an hour before it turns into getting up. But yesterday morning when I touched his back, he arched his whole body backward, so that it slowly pushed, from the butt all the way up to his head against the corresponding parts of me. Then, when the back of his head was near mine, he turned so he could see me, pushed his snout just a little further, and when I moved my nose closer to his, gave mine a quick lick. I laughed. His tail thumped against my leg.
The devil might be in the details, but so are there angels in some sentences.