I guess my mother-in-law figures she won’t be getting a human grandbaby anytime soon. She’s right. I’m not in a hurry. I get this impression because she stopped by the day after Christmas with a special gift for her grand dog, my “fur baby,” Billy, a 3-year-old, 103- pound Golden retriever.

Billy and I were in the front yard when Grandma pulled up. Of course Billy recognized Grandma. He was happy to see her as usual. She got out of her SUV, walked around the side, and opened up the trunk. Billy went around gleefully to greet her, making his trademark “hmmm” whimpering noise he makes when he’s beyond-the-stars excited. I think he knew Grandma had something special for him. His rear end wiggled back and forth, trying to keep up with his wagging tail. Anything in the path of that feathery tail was bound to get swatted away. Another feature of his super excitement is his ears: they’re pulled down and back tightly, like someone’s pinned them there on the sides of his head. He scuttles around excitedly like a furry, oversized pinball let loose from the spring. A few very special people are able to stir this display of affection in him: Grandma, Uncle Will, neighbor Yvonne, and neighbor Toby’s mom (whose name I don’t know).

Before I know it, Billy’s got his snout and then his entire torso – front paws and all, up in the trunk. His lower half is on the ground, anchored by those two massive back paws. Grandma holds some soft blue fabric in her hand. Billy knows it’s for him so he welcomes himself to it, opening that wide puppy mouth of his to take hold of it. Grandma grants it to him and then off he goes with it. He carries it to the backyard, plops it down, and then lies down in the grass and rests his head on it. He twitches his nose and rubs it within the fabric, taking in the scents of Grandma.

Later, I carry his blanket inside. I unfold the wad of blue fabric. What I see is so incredibly endearing it’s hard to put into words. My heart becomes like an ice cream cone in the July sun. Melted. It’s a 3×3 foot blanket. The border is blue. There’s another green border within that that has leaf prints and shoeprints stamped within it. Inside that are yellow squares. There’s an orange pteradacytle in the upper left-hand corner. In the upper right corner there’s a blue brontosaurus. Below him is a yellow stegosaurus. Coupled with each dinosaur in print is a mighty phrase you might hear from a toddler who has a fondness for these magnificent creatures: “Rawr,” “Stomp,” “Chomp.” Within the blanket, on some of the green borders are dinosaur track marks.

Before bed, I’ll pull out Billy’s blanket and put it on the living room floor in a balled-up fashion. When Billy comes inside from the backyard, he sees it lying there. It’s his habit to gather up a dirty shirt off the floor (he likes this – so we put one out for him each night). The blanket acts as the shirt. He pauses overtop of it, bends down, opens his mouth, and scoops it up. Of course it’s a lot of material but he can get it. The edges of the blank flow out of his large but soft mouth and touch the floor. He steps on them as he pads his way down the hall, momentarily stopping to readjust the blanket. He tries to collect as much of it as he can. Those puppy hips move from side to side down the hall, that bushy yellow tail sticking up like a shoot of pompass grass. He arrives at the master bedroom with the blanket in his mouth. He pauses at the foot of the bed, lifts one paw then another, and climbs into the bed. He plops down. There’s a “hmmm” noise as he lies down gently on the soft king-sized mattress. He opens his mouth to release the blanket. It gently plops out. He rests his sleepy head on it and closes his eyes. The smells of Grandma fill his nostrils and make for pleasant dreams – dreams perhaps of pterodactyles and T-Rexes, maybe?The comforts of the baby blanket. ~