Hello, world. It’s been one hell of a week. I’ve found it hard to write here about trivial matters such as what awesomely bad film I’ve discovered or the thoughts I’ve had in traffic, writing or food, while so many people are risking their lives to fight for justice in Iran. When basic human rights are stripped from you, nothing else seems to matter, and although I haven’t been in Iran since I was 2-years-old, I have my eyes and ears on every single piece of information coming out of there. I didn’t grow up in Tehran, but my parents did and my grandparents before them, and it still feels like home.

But I digress. Enough of that for now. I have commentary to post and things to write, but for now, I need happy thoughts , most of which come in the form of Henry the Maltese.

Look at this dog. Have you seen a funnier one? He perches himself on top of the stairs I’ve put for him to get to my bed. How he contorts his body to fit on such a small space is beyond me.

This a dog who loves his toys like a small child, one who parks at people on the street during a car ride, but cries after them when we drive away. This dog is scared of the pool, but not of dogs four times his weight. He’s the dog that loves the feeling after a bath, but hides under the bed in hopes of avoiding one.

This dog will claw at you endlessly until you lift him and put him on the dining room chair next to you – God forbid he be left out.

This is a dog who loves vegetables, from the lettuce he begs for, shreds and then eats, to the green bell peppers and cauliflower he likes to crunch on. Mostly, this little dog makes me happy, even when I’m upset about situations I cannot help halfway across the world.

Are you upset little friend? Have you been lying awake worrying? Well, don’t worry…I’m here. The flood waters will recede, the famine will end, the sun will shine tomorrow, and I will always be here to take care of you. -Charlie Brown to Snoopy

Henry has spent the better part of this week snuggled as close to me as physically possible. Usually, he’ll sleep on the edge of the bed, wrapped up in his brown plaid blanket. He’s really good about sleeping through the night and doesn’t get up until my feet touch the ground, but I find him almost wrapped in my arms when I wake up.

Words do not do the feeling of waking up with a warm dog next to you justice. There are few pleasures greater than a friendly and loving lick in the morning or a black snout buried within the confines of your arm. He doesn’t need to be by me, after all- his puppies day are behind him and he’s already 2-years-old in human years, but he wants to be.

I stroke his belly and pat his head and he settles into a ball for the rest of the night. Sometimes, I wake to find him sprawled out on his back, his legs are far apart as can be and his front paws so close to his chest that he looks like a little otter. He feels at ease, relaxed and without a care in the world. It is in these instances where I am truly jealous of the life Henry leads.

He has no work to worry about, no social life, no bills, no traffic. His only concerns involve him securing the parameters of the house, perfecting his Academy award winning begging routine and resting after a day’s hard work of scaring away imaginary invaders.

At night, he turns almost human. The shapes in which he sleeps in, the content noises he makes when he’s come into an agreement with a space in which to lay his head and the way he rubs his eyes with his paws first thing in the morning, turn him into my little child instead of my little dog.

And that’s one child I’ll happily accept at this point in my life.

Hugo is my boyfriend’s dog and the inspiration for getting Henry. He’s the original Maltese in our circle and is about 3-years-old. He spends his days perched on the couch, people watching by the window and barking at unsavoury characters. He loves liver treats, strolls in the park and holiday sweaters. It’s my dream that Hugo from London and Henry from Los Angeles will one day meet.

I woke up with a terrible headache this morning and when I took one look at Henry and saw how peacefully asleep he was, I knew I couldn’t get up, get dressed and fight the traffic to get to work. So I ended up staying home, nursing my head (and Henry) and cleaning my room up a bit. By the end of the day, I was feeling much better. It’s so nice to be home once in a while. My mind was so at ease. It was so nice being able to look outside at my garden, instead of the walls of the cubicle I sit in. It was so nice, that I decided to play photographer and took some photos of my usual subject, Henry.

Roaring white lion.