This might be the best way to wake up, ever. The golden sun rays breaking through soft oak leaves and pine needles, a sleeping bag that feels like a cloud, and a tiny warm fuzzy inside. .
Friday night turned into an impromptu camping trip with a lot of new friends. .
Charlie always takes off to do the usual dog things, but is always close by and has never, ever run away (I mean, let’s be honest, would he?)
This night was different. For whatever reason, he ran off immediately with the local dog pack. As the night went on and one by one the other dogs returned, Charlie never did. .
Hours on hours passed. The fire began to die, the music fade, and still no Charlie.
So I decided to sleep by the fire pit, hoping he was somewhere nearby, watching with his little won-keyes. .
Maybe I was being dramatic (I certainly told myself I was), but I really did wonder if I’d see him again. .
And sure enough, just after sunrise the next morning, 11 sad, stressful hours later, I felt his little tongue on my face as he burrowed into my fluffy warm cloud with me. And then it was a gosh darn beautiful morning.