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Jet Lag Junkie: Unfiltered Tales of a Compulsive Wanderer

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Jeff Johns

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“When she opened her eyes, Hudson was standing next to the chaise, staring at her. “Hey, you,” Morgan said, placing her hand on the side of his face with a sad smile. He looked up at her with a concerned expression, his ears plastered against his head and his tongue lizarding out of his mouth. He shifted his weight, then gently hopped up so his front paws were on the chaise next to her. Before she realized what he was doing, Hudson leaned closer to gently lick her cheek, exactly where the tear had rolled down. “Oh my God,” Morgan whispered as it dawned on her. “You’re worried about me?” Hudson continued licking her cheek no matter how she moved her face away from him. It was like he needed to distract her and wipe away any tangible traces of her sadness. “Hud, I’m okay. I’m okay,” she lied as new tears of recognition welled in her eyes. Oh my God. Hudson is a comfort dog. Their family dog, Betty, had been one, so keyed in to offering support to the humans in her house that she could practically smell tears from a room away. Betty had been particularly helpful during Morgan’s angsty teen years, seeking her out when she was feeling depressed. After realizing that Hudson meant business and wasn’t going to stop his comfort rituals, Morgan surrendered to him. She pulled him up onto the lounge, and he leaned his body against hers like a weighted blanket.”

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