Sometimes he would awake before her
and lie there watching her sleep.
He’d scoot closer and nuzzle
into her neck, a quiver of pleasure
racing through him at her murmured response.
He’d inhale the warm, musty scent of her
and groan with satisfaction.
Later, he would follow her –
outside, inside, room to room –
or sit and watch her dance,
his heart bursting with devotion
and pride, that out of all the scruffy dogs
in the world, he was the puppy
she decided to take home.