"Gentle..."

I try to remain still, although I feel my head cock to the side on instinct. My tail wags feverishly behind me, although I try to stop it. I can't. A howl rises from my throat, although it becomes more of a whine under all of my self-restraint.

"Shhhhh..."

The air smells of damp skin and salt--of exhaustion and adoration....And something else, but I can't place what it is.

Mother is resting something in the fold of her elbow. She kneels beside me. That smell draws nearer. Before I can think, my nose rummages through the contents of this odd contraption Mother places on the floor. She doesn't intentionally place anything on the floor like this too often, unless it's a new toy, or a treat, or my dinner bowl; when she places something on the ground with this same look in her eye, whatever it is is meant for me.

A blanket.

I already have my favorite blanket tucked under the coffee table and don't see why I would ever need another. This one has that same odd smell, anyway. My nose follows the origin of the scent beneath this blanket. I can't see anything as I dive underneath the pink fabric. Maybe my senses are overwhelmed by yet another new smell. This one is horrid.

I recoil and draw my head from the smelly shadows, not before the blanket falls with the movement of kicking legs. I exhale from my nostrils as hard as I can, perhaps out of frustration or in an attempt to expel the smell from my senses.

Mother's hand caresses the top of my head in reassurance. She scratches under my chin, and I can catch the same scent--the first one--lingering on her hand, on the tips of her lips, her chest. The smell has become part of her own now, as if it had always been there somehow. My eyes wander back to the blanket.

Instead of a mound of pink fabric, I meet eyes with blue eyes and rosy cheeks.