Brotherly love

This morning, Chewy says, “Take it easy.” So I do. But let’s be honest — I set the tone around here. Still, Chewy’s a wise old guy, and when he gets that look in his eye, all calm and glowy like some kind of furry Buddha, I know it’s time to chill.

He’s curled up in The Chair. You know the one — ancient, lumpy, smells vaguely of old toast and definitely of my pee. (What? It’s my chair too.) 

Naturally, I climb on top of him. Where else would I be? His back is prime real estate — warm, solid, and perfectly shaped to cradle my royal behind. Some say I perch there because it’s safe. Others say I’m guarding Chewy like the loyal protector I am. Truth? I do it because I can. Also, no one else gets to be that close to him. That’s our thing.

Chewy doesn’t mind. He never does. We’ve got this unspoken language. No barks needed. Just heartbeats and shared breath. He trusts me. I trust him. It's as simple and sacred as that.

The light spills in from the window, catching the white in his fur and the shine in my eyes. He looks like a saint. I look like a shadow with purpose. Together, we’re art. And comfort. And something that makes humans whisper, “Aww,” while snapping a hundred photos.

So today, I follow Chewy’s lead. I let the world turn without rushing to catch it. I take it easy. But don’t worry — I’m still on duty.

Peanut 🐾