The dog curls underneath and rests herself against my foot, so that I can feel the pressure of her body on my ankle and the warmth of her fur on my toes.
It is the most reassuring and comforting feeling I can imagine.
Just as I wonder if it means as much to her as it means to me, she sighs – contentedly, I think.
Willow wishes to go run in the field next to our home.
I wish to sleep in. Sadly, I hold the reins. She is wiser.
She is wiser than I, this quiet beast who walks into the room and settles at my feet.
She knows, somehow, and she knows before I do.
I just sit, barely awake, in the chair she will bundle herself into when I leave later.
But she already knows.