It was early morning, too early for the birds even, but bright enough in our curtained bedroom that I could sense the day. My dog looked so peaceful as I came out of the bathroom, on his Costco rug, his head tucked under the dark of the bed frame. Yet something drew me to him. I lay down, not finding much comfort in the unforgiving floor. He glanced my way, then rolled to spoon next to me, and I could feel the chill leaving my body, his full stretched out length matching my own. After a few minutes he rolled on his back, leaning further into me with one long foreleg over my side. I could hear his breathing slow and feel his tail twitch to the imagined dreams he was having. I stroked his upturned belly, just like I did when he was 18 pounds to his now 85. I did not want to break this quiet reverie, this start to my day. I was glad for his unexpected response to my love for him, and felt the weight of my heart grow lighter.