After another twenty minutes, I finally sat up. Maybe if I took a shower and changed into pajamas—maybe then I’d start to feel sleepier. I got up and walked back into the living room. Shelby stayed in her bed and didn’t lift her head as I walked by. I went into the bathroom and showered and brushed my teeth. As I walked past Shelby again, I saw her peek one eye open, but then I went into the bedroom and shut the door most of the way.

I lay down again, feeling more relaxed, more comfortable, but sleep still felt a million miles away. I punched the pillow angrily and flipped over, near tears for the need to let go of all this and just fall asleep. I was suddenly too hot, and I stood up on the bed and pulled the cord for the ceiling fan. The cool breeze brushed over me, and it was comforting, as was the loud white noise that the fan brought, blocking out almost everything else.

I lay back down and tried to count to one hundred.

I made it there easily and started another hundred after that.

I heard a tapping sound at the door and then the jingle of Shelby’s dog collar. I sat up in the bed and looked as the door slowly swung inward. Shelby never came into our room, and I was surprised to see her trot up alongside the bed and stand there.

In the moonlight, I could see her eyes clearly, and we watched each other. She looked concerned, and I felt a lump rise in my throat.

In all the months of my insomnia, she hadn’t once acknowledged that I was having a problem, and now here she was, her big brown eyes glistening. And all it had taken was me taking her to the park, for reasons she knew nothing about. As she stood there watching me, I put out a hand and rubbed her head.

“We don’t deserve you, you know that,” I said, the tears welling up in my eyes. She didn’t move, and finally, I rolled over and patted the bed. She hesitated only a second before hopping up into the bed beside me. She held herself up for a few moments, but as I settled in, she let her body drop down beside me, her head on her paws.

We lay there like that for a few moments, and then, out of nowhere, with her right there beside me, I felt a wave of sleep wash over me. I knew it wasn’t actually tiredness; it was security. I was so grateful, I wanted to cry, but instead, I let myself fall under the spell of sleep, the softness of her fur the last thing I remember.

• • •

When I woke up again, it was still dark, and Shelby had gone back into the living room.

Or so I thought.