A jellybean of a dog, he is.
Butterscotch flavor. I'm sure of it.
I lie down for sleep, and he's eager to come along.
It only takes a moment.
A stretch of his spindly, awkward little legs
Then down he goes.
Into the snug crevice between my arm and my me and the soft bed.
His legs tucked in like my side is his custom-made personal docking station.
Big deer-bat-dog ears stand up at my elbow, the only sign that he isn't just a fuzzier-than-normal four-pound potato
That I have an odd habit of taking to bed with me every night.
One big heave of breath, a complete relaxment
And he's already fast asleep, paws twitching in my ribs.
Or barking at things
Or performing in a Mexican opera.
I'm sure he is the star.