I’m staying with my friends Lydia, Lore and Baziel until Christmas.  Oh … and one more friend – Henri.  They live among rolling hills near the village of Maarkedal.

Henri is a big guy, a Rhodesian ridgeback doggie.  When I visit, I sleep in a separate building and in the morning use a key to get into the home.  Guess who greets me at the door?  He knows my patterns, that I’m usually the first person up, and that jingle of keys is me.

This morning I moved to the living room couch to take off my outdoor shoes, and Henri moved with me.  He started off with his usual bouncing … and licking.  My face was an inviting target.  In years past, I would let the dog tongue migrate all the way to my glasses but now I’ve dematured, only revealing my chin and neck.  Still, I’m well lubricated.

And then Henri presented the side of his body to me and stood there. I took both hands and rubbed his flanks – over and over. Occasionally he brought his head close and my hands knew what to do there as well. Then his side again, this time facing the other way.

For at least ten minutes.

The rhythm of the touch, the softness of the fur, and Henri gratefully receiving. Time lost all meaning.

And then he walked out of the room …

I smile as I remember