A boy and his dog

It's 1 a.m. My wife and I are about to tuck in. It's a cold, snowy night. The kids are all asleep, the dog's been walked and is curled up happily on his dog bed beside the rocking chair in our room. Suddenly, we hear bumping from somewhere in the house.

I get up to see what's up and find our youngest son carrying a box of kleenex out of the bathroom. Matter-of-factly, he tells me he ran out of kleenex in his room and needed a new box. I follow him as he walks quietly back to his room.

He's been running a fever for most of the evening, and he's so congested that we can hear him breathing from the next room. The dog is now awake and has wandered into Noah's room, worried about his newfound buddy. He stands up on his hind legs and places his paws on the bed, stretching his little head to sniff out the little boy he only met three days earlier. He's already been in and out of Noah's room for much of the evening. Such an empathetic dog.

I hover over our son as I tuck him back into bed, asking him how he's feeling and ensuring he's not any worse than he was when he fitfully fell asleep earlier in the evening. We're all worried about him. His breathing is labored, and he can't fall back asleep. He talks to the dog, and that brings him a small amount of comfort on a cold, dark and uncomfortable night. He's worried that Frasier won't be comfortable on his floor. Such an empathetic boy.

I know that as soon as I head back to my room, the dog will follow me and little man will be alone. I quickly head back to our room and tell my wife my plan before I grab an extra pillow and comforter and return to Noah's room. The dog follows my every step.

I lie down on the floor and cover myself with the comforter. Frasier heads back to the bed to give Noah a final sniff before he plops himself down on the edge of my comforter and falls asleep. I talk to Noah in the dark until he drifts off, then I listen to him and the dog breathing in his darkened room.

A few hours later, I awake to find Noah has climbed down from his bed. He's now lying, blanket, pillow and all, across my chest. The dog is lying across my legs. I don't dare move lest I wake them up.

Morning comes and Noah wakes up with a smile. Still congested, still feverish, but happy that he's gotten to camp out on the floor with his dad and his dog. Frasier wakes up to find a six-year-old patting and hugging him. I get up very slowly to avoid further injury to my creaky and sore body. I wonder when I got this old. Then I conclude that a lousy night's sleep is worth it if it allows a sad little guy to have his dog nearby when he's feeling sick.

Parenthood...

Your turn: If you've got any sleeping-on-the-floor tips, I'm all ears. I may be doing this again in the very near future.

One more thing: If you're just joining us, click here and here for more background on our newly-arrived canine. I've also created a new label for any pet-themed entries, entitled, interestingly enough, Act of dog.