I woke up exhausted—it was exam week Monday, and Mondays are always dreadful. As I made my way to class, spoon-feeding myself a yogurt parfait that had been heavily delayed (something is seriously wrong with our school dining system these days), I entered my ARTH class ("Art plus H class") with a feeling that something was missing. Usually, my professor's dog would come running toward me as soon as the door creaked open, but today, nothing happened.

Is the dog not here today? I thought.

In some ways, I considered the dog my biggest luck charm and, in others, the most delightful distraction in the class. My mind wandered to the magnetic nature of that cute, cuddly creature, thinking, Maybe it’s me. 

Maybe the dog’s bored of me.

Though there was never any obligation for the dog to cater to my unnecessary wants, its presence, lying next to me, curled up, and at my feet, was something I always looked forward to during in-person class. I found it endearing.

Its very presence warmed me.

I made my way across the classroom, only to be met with a sweet surprise. With eyes of wonder glowing brighter than the morning sun, the furry friend stood beside my seat.