The rain had finally stopped, but the monsters in seven-year-old Lily’s head were still screaming. ⛈️ The thunder that had shaken the very foundations of her small bedroom just an hour ago had left her curled in a tight ball under her duvet, her small frame racking with silent, terrified sobs. She felt completely alone.
The door clicked open softly. A faint “whuff” cut through the darkness.
Bear, her massive, shaggy Golden Retriever, trotted in. He didn’t jump onto the bed right away. Instead, he sat by the edge, resting his heavy chin on the mattress, waiting for permission. Lily’s hand drifted out from under the covers. 🖐️
Bear didn’t hesitate. He was 90 pounds of fluff and intuition. He knew.
He scrambled up, his claws making a soft clicking sound on the wood before he settled his heavy body against her back. He began a slow, rhythmic licking of her tear-streaked cheek. 👅 His breath was warm. His tongue was rough and calming. He licked her salty tears, and the steady beat of his tail against the duvet sounded like a counter-rhythm to her crashing heart. 💖
Soon, the sobbing slowed. Her shaking arms wrapped around Bear’s neck, burying her face in his comforting scent of pine needles and biscuits. Bear let out a contented sigh and lay his head down, effectively pinning the monsters of the storm outside her window where they couldn’t reach her. 😴
