Snapshot

Marley's face looks about as dusty as the thin layer covering my bedroom dresser in the back. I never have the heart to tell her that she is on my pillow. So I crawl to the bottom of the bed, scratch fervently with both of my hands while simultaneously making a small circle until I plop down in the same spot I started and I sleep perfectly unless there is thunder, lightening, a creak in the neighborhood, a dog wagging its tail within a 30 block radius, or if it's my time for my hourly trot up and down the hallway as a volunteer security guard.