December 9, 2014

White Dog moved to let her brother bury his head in my lap. Poor Taiko always has a rough time on Steve's late nights. He is totally Dad's Boy and the separation causes him stress. I stroked his head and rubbed his flank as I spoke reassuringly that we were past the hard part and that it would only be a couple of more hours until Steve was home.

He pressed more tightly against me. My Tender Hearted One looked up at me with his sad eyes. I smoothed his cheek. He rested his face in my palm.

I heard the rumbling in his belly as he licked by palm. "Momma, I am going to be sick," his body language suddenly said.

I managed to swing him and my chair around and position him on one of the dog rugs in the office just seconds before he upchucked his dinner.

He slumped against me asking to be held and calmed. Zsofia was already making a beeline for the mess. "Leave it!" was totally ineffective. Short of shoving my sick baby aside, it seemed Zso was going to enjoy a disgusting treat.

White Dog came around the corner and stood in the darkest white dog's face and uttered a single low growl. Zso woo'd back a challenge which WD answered by growling deeper and moving close enough to touch her. Zsofia gave up the prize and trotted out of the room...and I was able to quickly fold up the rug and thank my girl for intervention without letting go of Taiko.

In a few minutes he had settled at my feet and was sleeping soundly.