Your dad and I often joke about how you get up in the morning to go back to bed. We call you “Lazy Mobes” more often than “Moby”, especially as we carry you downstairs when you refuse to get up. You prefer soft things to rest your head, carpet over hard wood, and a nest of pillows for sleeping.
The first time I met you, you slept in my arms for 2 hours and I wondered if you would be the playful puppy I had expected. While you definitely were, you also loved to nap and sleep all day while we went to work.
Your favorite toy is an old teddy bear with barely any stuffing left. You sleep with it and use it as your pillow, the perfect cuddly toy for a Lazy Mobes.
When I come home from a hard/sad/happy/tiring/frustrating/wonderful/any kind of day, you prod me until I cuddle with you and get roped into your lazy spells that prevent me from making dinner, cleaning the house, or checking my emails. I want to be frustrated, but you dance and growl and beg me to stay lazy a bit longer and I get lost in a nap or a moment of my own thoughts, or the pleasure of a warm puppy resting on my lap.
Everyone needs a Lazy Mobes, a someone or something that offers peace and comfort. You have calmed my wild spirit, slowed my breath, and made me smile every day. Your lazy ways are healing and wonderful.