I'm home today in Day 3 of what I thought first was allergies, then a cold, and now I'm admitting that I may have The Flu. It's miserable. But Biggie is such a great companion.
I don't feel under the weather all that often, so this is unusual. The last time I was this out of it, I'd just come back from surgery and The Big One walked me to the bathroom and back to the couch when I was still groggy from the anesthesia. Not because I asked; he just thought I needed some support.
Most mornings we have a very clear routine. Biggie gets himself up a few minutes before my alarm goes off at 7am, and we go to the dog run by 7:30 or 8 at the latest. "Getting up" for him means getting out of his crate, walking around, and pawing at the bedroom door. This morning, even though I was up (sort of) and in and out of sleep, he waited patiently on his bed and his crate until 10. We hobbled to the dog run slowly and he did a nice loose leash walk the whole way, and after he'd taken care of business, he just stood by the door like, "Time to go home, mom."
When we got home, I sat on the floor to pet him and he put his head in my lap - "I'm sorry you feel bad, mom."
Sitting at the table at the far end of the apartment, typing on the computer, Biggie lies halfway between me and the front door. I got up for a moment, and he sprang up, watching me and then going into guard pose at the door - standing and listening alertly to people in the hall. Only after I sat down again did he lie down, again halfway between the door and me.
My dog rocks.