My dog, Bella, is an interesting character. We call her the cat-dog, for the bit of sassiness that goes along with her doggie sweetness.
After I left my ex-husband, I moved in with my sister and her husband for a short time, to help me get on my feet. Because I was newly separated and sad, for the first time ever, I let the dog sleep in the room with me (my ex was always anti this).
Any way, one night I was startled awake by what felt like someone pushing my shoulder. A gasp escaped my lips and I opened my eyes, but could see nothing in the pitch black of the room.
I took a breath, but the heaviness in the pit of my stomach didn’t leave me… It did however shift slightly.
“Bella?” I said to the darkness. The shifting stopped and tried to will itself still. This is when I realized that my dog, who has very dark brown and black fur knows that I can’t see her at night.
My mommy voice came out, “Bella, get down.”
There is no Bella, only darkness.
So, I sat up, grabbed the petulant bit of darkness and put her down on the floor. The darkness huffed and went back to her doggie bed to go back to sleep, but only after giving me a stare down.