She sleeps right there, sometimes over, sometimes under, always snuggled right in between. Mr. E had a hard enough time with my flailing arms and legs in those stolen naps together, but now we're constantly poked and prodded with little puppy feet. We turn over in the morning to scold but she opens one lazy eye and her belly is uplifted just waiting for scratches.
She'll always be our first.
In our constant state of waiting, the job search, the apartment hunting, it's the simple things that are the hardest. Remember to eat. Get up on time. Shave your legs today. There's always something that I'm missing lately because I'm not quite here nor there. I'm in a state of in between, population: me.
In the humid gloom of our add-on master bedroom I shuffle towards the bathroom, shedding sheets and clothes in my quest for the shower. If I make eye contact with her she'll prick her ears and cock her head to the side and swish her tail, eager to please. Mr. E is still a lump on a log at this point, too early for him and already late for me. This is where she thrives the best. She's snuggly and tiny and small, bits and pieces all wrapped around a tail that slowly inflates as she struggles to let out the biggest sigh of contentment.
As soon as I'm clean and human again she waits, eagerly anticipating the moment I open the second drawer from the top. It's at this point she knows- I'll reach in and she's already jumped the pillow hurdle, spinning between my feet as I hop and skip to shove my legs into pants. She'll sprint to the door and pause, waiting until I'm close enough for her to reach up and hook her tiny paws around my knee, stretching for attention. We play this game for most of the morning- I'm making cereal, checking my email, packing my briefcase and still she's stretching on her tip toes.
It isn't until the snap of the laptop that she sprints between the sliver of open door (ringing those dangling bells) and paces beside Mr. E. She's impatient, waiting for permission to jump on the bed and the moment she has it she's all waggy tails and tongue and floppy ears until...she's not. As quick as she can squeeze herself between Mr. E's backside and a pillow it's as if she wasn't awake at all. A kiss for them both and I'm out the door, only pausing long enough to make eye contact and she slowly winks her eyes closed and settles in for her second long nap. This was just the play time in between.