I was dozing on my bed when, even through my NyQuil-induced coma, I felt like I was being watched. Sure enough, I cracked open a heavy lid and saw Olivia standing at the foot of my bed, just staring at me. All I could see were her eyes and --as my friend Sue calls them-- "big ass ears." Olivia looked so darned cute I snapped a quick shot with my iPhone and then resumed my nap.
But minutes later my eyes flew open when my 70-pound girl took a flying leap and joined me on the bed. Now bear in mind, this was significant because Olivia doesn't sleep on my bed. Oh, I invite her all the time, but she's made it perfectly clear that she prefers her pillow. Her nice, cushy, stinky, stained-with-god-knows-what pillow. Okay, fine.
Today was different, though. Today, her canine intuition told her that I wasn't feeling well and it seemed she wanted to comfort me. And so, planting her Oatmeal shampoo-scented body alongside mine, Olivia snuggled up against my chest and tucked her knobby little head under my chin, indeed comforting me in a way that resonated deep within my hacking, cough-ridden soul.
On second thought, maybe the New Year isn't off to such a bad start after all.