him struggling to do push-ups while our old dog, Max, was enthusiastically licking his face. His breathing wasn’t from the workout—
it was from trying not to laugh as Max’s tail wagged wildly, making a mess of his rhythm. I couldn’t help but burst out laughing, my anger melting away. “You’re gonna wake the neighbors with all that heavy breathing!” I teased. He collapsed on the floor, chuckling, and Max jumped on him, thinking it was playtime. “I thought I’d work out here so I wouldn’t wake you,” he said, scratching Max’s ears. I shook my head, amused at how wrong I’d been, and tossed him a towel. “Next time, take Max with you to the gym,” I said, climbing back into bed with a smile, the sound of their playful chaos fading as I drifted off.
