For a few years now Murph and I have had a routine whereby I snuggle up with him before I climb into bed. It started because he wasn’t always allowed to sleep on the bed with us so I’d sidle up next to him on the floor (he had a bed but he didn’t always start out sleeping on it at nights) and tell him what a great dog he’d been that day.
These days he’s allowed to sleep with us on the bed, but he still starts out on the floor most nights. And if I don’t take a few minutes to hold him, rub his belly, and tell him what a good dog he’s been that day before I kiss his cheek and climb in bed he lets me know about it when he comes to bed. He has several ways of doing this.
Sometimes he plops down in a big mope, facing me, and giving me the sad stare that I’ve forgotten to love on him. Sometimes he takes forever to lay down and turns around and around and around before finally dropping. (I’ve determined this is his way of making sure I notice him because if he does it too long I’m bound to tell him “Be a good dog and lay down, pup.” Which is usually followed by a kiss and a pat on the head.)
Then there’s his crowding routine. Either he’ll come right up in my face and demand attention before he claims his spot by my feet or he’ll simply scooch up so close to me he’s smothering my legs. Both provoke a reaction and attention and that’s exactly what he wants.
The cats aren’t as finicky about getting good night kisses. They don’t mind them if I’m willing to give them, but usually I have to hunt each cat down to bestow them.
Which I don’t mind doing. I may not always kiss Wayne goodnight, but I try with Murph, Tabby, and Kitty. There’s something calming, reassuring, and tender about taking a moment to tell each of them how much I love them, how grateful I am they’re in my life, and to remind them how wonderful they are before I kiss them goodnight and wish them sweet dreams.
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