((SAD WARNING))
[He] is sleeping at my feet, his warm throat on the top of my foot. We're sharing a blanket, and it's dim and warm as it's nearly nighttime.
I'm glad we enjoy each other's company. Lately, for a while now, [he] needs a blanket often, though I imagine he gets lonely and wants to share it with someone.
I like that too. It's nice to feel warmth that isn't from my own body. It's something shared like that.
I love [him], though seeing him sometimes makes me cry. How he stumbles aimlessly around the house with his eyes glassy, a mixture of lime green on his pupils and red around the edges.
His tongue will find your palm, searching for food because that's all he looks for when he's not sleeping.
Sometimes, every other day, he starts barking at ______ and they both growl and snap at each other from their respective corners of the room, impotent in their threats.
I wish he'd move more, only if he could. I wish he could distinguish the floor from a treat when set in front of him.
But I love him. I love him when we share a blanket and he rests his head on my foot, with the tip of his tongue peeking out of his jowls, as it always is.
Despite how at times it feels like he's no more a ghost than a dog, or how he barks at me when he mistakes me for a threat, I look into his cloudy eyes and see something looking back.
A memory of some other dog so far from himself now. His loud snores will always be a comfort, and I will cherish every one until his shallow breath subsides into my embrace.
Rest easy dear friend <3