'Mom' (I think that's what I'll call her) and I were sitting in the living room this morning after breakfast. She had that thing attached to her ear again, and was rubbing me lovingly with her foot... when I tired of hearing every story we've shared together thus far.
Curiosity might have killed the cat... but it's second nature for a golden retriever, such as myself. And there's curious and sweet and gentle smells under the table behind the sofa.
I ambled slowly, so as not to draw attention, and stretched my neck longingly over a big old paper sack... to retrieve the fruits of the scent.
Mom noticed. And while she welled up with tears, she removed the bag... and I was able to select toys from a basket, all laden with the spirit of that very special someone that created such a warm place in Mom's heart.
There's more to Mom than maybe I first thought. Pieces of the bedtime stories are beginning to fall into place.
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