She trusts me.
At 1:15 a.m. I woke to puppy cries.
“I’m coming Henri!” I called from the floor above.
Within seconds, I’d unlocked the gate, snapped on her collar, picked her up, and whisked her out the door. We strolled around until she found just the right spots to take care of her business.
Back in her gated area between the kitchen island and cabinets, I sat still as a stone while Henrietta bit on her toy duck and bed. From the day we brought her home, we noticed that’s how she self-soothes and puts herself to sleep.
When she was quiet, I snuck out the gate and back to my bed.
I could use a self-soothing technique of my own. I tossed and turned for only five minutes before the whimpering fired up again. Henrietta it seemed, missed me.
Grabbing my pillow and a blanket, I entered puppy central. I’d also snagged a pillow from the couch to sit on. Henri nuzzled me and climbed onto the pillow that my head usually rests on. Within a minute, she was sound asleep.
I took some deep breaths and wondered if the middle of the night is a good time to meditate. Certainly can’t hurt. After the second hand of the wall clock ticked sixty a few times, I once again made my way back upstairs. I didn’t see Henri again until 6:30 a.m. when I came back downstairs, driven by my own internal clock. She greeted me with a tail wag at the gate.
Looking at the two of us—dogs and owners everywhere, really—we have little in common, but somehow our love and trust in one another builds an unshakeable bridge.
Have you built any bridges lately?
I find it to be gratifying work.