I have taken to spending my days in my parents' bedroom, which is darker and cooler than my own, and Abbey has been keeping me company. She's not allowed on my parents' bed, so she's been spending the long hours in the dark, closed-up room lounging in her crate. She's come to accept this arrangement as the new normal and will suggest that we head in that direction when we go upstairs together (by going ahead of me and then stopping and looking back over her shoulder to see if I will follow) and wriggles with joy and licks my toes when I enter the bedroom. You'd think she was going to get treats and belly rubs or a special game or maybe even a walk, not an opportunity to spend an afternoon in her crate looking at the closed bedroom door. The thing is, unlike me, Abbey is not whiling away those hours in a state of boredom and discomfort. She is, in fact, engaged in the important and deeply satisfying job of Being With Her Girl. I'm not making this up. She knows I'm not feeling well and has naturally stepped into the role of keeping vigil. I'm sure her little border collie genes are just as pleased as punch to have an opportunity to watch over something valuable! I must say that she is doing an excellent job and her willingness to forsake the sun by the front window cheers me a great deal, as does the fact that she hasn't complained once about the bedroom door being closed (she really hates being in a room with a closed door, so this is a big deal). I'm very grateful to have a silent companion during the long nauseated hours of the afternoons and can attest, again, that there is no medicine quite like that which is provided by a loyal mutt.