Cold nose, warm comfort

Mom’s been weepy lately.

“With good reason,” she snaps, if you ask her why.
(Probably that time of the month, if you ask me why.)

First, a co-worker lost his teenager to an asthma attack on Thanksgiving Day. The boy died peacefully in his sleep while his parents slept in the other room.

Second, Chippy, her uncle’s dog and a family favorite, passed on. He brightened his humans’ lives for 14 long years and eventually became too weak to move. The family made the painful decision last week to end his misery.

Mom hugged me to her chest and bawled like a baby after she spoke with them. She’s worried that I’m approaching my sunset years and hopes she never has to make such a painful, gut-wrenching decision. I licked her salty face and let her hold me until she calmed down.

It could be something as personal as the death of a family member, or something as remote as an article about a molested child in Russia, or even a picture of an abused animal in a laboratory – there’s no telling what can upset mom and when.

When her heart is heavy, she'll come sit by me on the carpet, hold my silky head in her hands and press her forehead to mine. The tears will flow, quietly at first, until the reservoir bursts and heaving sobs rack her entire body, almost threatening to spill out her soul.

I listen quietly as she buries her hands in my fur and empties her grief. We don’t talk – there’s no need for words.

Some time later, she'll wipe her red eyes and snotty nose on the wadded-up tissues strewn around us. My neck is damp by now, but I don’t move. Her breathing gradually starts to even, as she absently strokes my ears.

We sit together in the stillness, until a low hum in the garage signals the arrival of the children. The garage door is thrown open and the brats burst into the house with their cheerful banter. I’m quickly forgotten as the children spy mom excitedly and sweep her away in their happy prattle.

I give myself a good shake and rush to join the familial brood, all the while staying close to mom – just in case she needs to stroke my ears again.