Buddy

Last night, a poorly-thought-out ad and Facebook's annoying auto-play "feature" combined to throw me into a massive panic attack.  I was literally shaking and was so upset I couldn't even cry.

I went down and told Patrick, who hugged me and held me and tried to help.  Bless that man.  He tries so hard, and has no idea how to calm a panic attack.  Not his fault.  I don't know, either.  Sometimes, his hugs help.  Sometimes, I need to brainstorm solutions for whatever causes the panic attack.  Sometimes, I need music, or my tree talisman, or cocoa, or a bit of space.

None of that was working last night.

I left Patrick, intending to draw for awhile, since that can be calming.  I never even pulled out my drawing supplies.

Instead, I sat down, and Buddy, our dog, put his head in my lap.  I wrapped my arms around his adorable and solid shoulders and just sobbed into his fur.  I don't know how long I sat there, holding him and crying, but he never moved.  He never tried to run away.  He just stood there, letting me hold him, knowing that I needed him, and not caring why.

I broke down and didn't worry about what he would think.  I didn't worry about seeming weak.  Or needy.   Or like I needed to explain myself.  I knew he didn't care.  He just wanted to be near me.  And no matter what, I knew he'd still look at me exactly the same when it was over.

Eventually, I ran out of tears.  I held Buddy's head in my hands and thanked him.  He wagged his tail a little and looked at me with his big brown eyes.  There was no pity.  No sadness.  Just the same adoration a dog always has for the ones who love him.

And then, sensing that his work was done, he wandered off down the hall.  Last night, I had the most peaceful night of sleep that I've had in a long time.  Because my dog was just there.