B, with his numerous insecurities, is not an affectionate dog. He dislikes being touched unless he is the one to initiate it. He is constantly on high alert, barking at the slightest noise or movement, and quick to crawl into one of his hiding spots if SR or I are in a particularly affectionate mood.
But last night, he came to us, on the bed. Possibly after months. When S was also on the bed. SR and I sat frozen, caught in a mix of delight and fear, knowing that the smallest wrong move would make him go scuttling away.
But he didn’t.
He stayed with us on the bed for nearly half an hour, scratching the mattress, ignoring our half-hearted reprovals, chewing the sheets, trying to get a sleepy S to get up and play, and generally being adorable.
For that half an hour yesterday, my baby forgot the demons inside his head and turned into a puppy again. Carefree. Trusting. Playful.
And I will forever remain grateful for moments like these.