I was sitting next to Jon, him on his chair, me on the couch. My eyes were closed in meditation when I heard Jon call Bud to him a couple of times before Jon was silent again.
When crickets chirped on my iPhone timer after a half hour, I opened my eyes to see Bud sweetly snuggled on Jon’s lap.
Cold enough for fires in the woodstoves, all the ticking and banging the metal made as the stove warmed up frightened Bud. He doesn’t like loud noises, especially those that sound like gunshots.
During hunting season or when our neighbors slaughter their pigs and cow in the fall if Bud is outside then the shooting starts, he’ll claw at the back door to get in the house.
This morning he only had to be frightened for a moment before Jon comforted him and let Bud know all was safe.
