Companionship

He has gotten used to me being around.

On most mornings, during the week, he would watch as I would go about my routine -
      putting my clothes on, doing my hair, putting on my makeup . . . and,
when I would walk downstairs and grab my keys, my purse, and my coffee mug,
      he knew.

He would solemnly walk over to his chair -
      the one with the front seat view to the outside world,
(and the best angle for watching my car exit and enter the driveway). 

And, with ears and tail down, he would watch, as I would walk out the side door.   

But, this week has been different.

He has gotten used to me being around.

I have been getting up a little later and, in an effort to jump start my day,
     making daily trips to the nearby drive-thru Starbucks.
So, when I put my shoes on, instead of walking over to his chair,
     he runs over to the side door, hoping and expecting that I will say the magic words . . .
            "Charlie, come!"
And, as the door opens up, he leaps outside (before the opportunity is lost),
     and waits eagerly, yet patiently, for me to open the passenger side door.   

"YES!" he seems to say, as he positions himself in his seat.

Another day together.