We usually don’t allow the dogs to sleep on the bed with us. James is very tall and he requires a lot of elbow room, and I tend to travel around in my sleep. Overnight, the bed is for humans, only.
Due to work schedules, I typically turn in before the husband. I grab my book and tuck myself in to unwind before I fall asleep, light on with the Kindle keys pressing into my cheek. But while I’m settling in, I have company.
Because you see, until all of the lights go out, the dogs are allowed snuggle time on the bed (GASP! I know. I know. I’m not proud). Comfort queen that she is, MJ bounds onto the bed and rearranges the blankets to her approval, burrowing until she’s a lump curled against my leg. Typically, Zozo flops down and low-crawls under the bed to his preferred sleeping space. I call this arrangement “The Dorothy Intervention”.
But some nights, when the wind is blustering or he’s not feeling altogether himself– or he’s feeling like a big goofball– Zo hops up on the bed. He stomps around. He circles to find the best nesting space.
“Mama, where’s the little girl? Is she here?”
Rudely interrupted with light and a cold snout invading her cave, MJ nips a warning. Completely freaked out, Zozo backs up and falls off the bed, thudding to the floor and scampering to the door in surprise.
“Is everyone OK up there?” James calls.
“Yep, Pupper just fell off the bed again.”
MJ always feigns innocence when I lift up the blankets to scold her:
“No nipping! That’s not nice!”
“I didn’t do nothin’! Doodle musta just fell.”
Within minutes, Zozo is back up on the bed, circling and sniffing and running for his life. This cycles through three or four times over the course of a half-hour. After the second time, I frustratingly shoo everyone to their respective, separate floor spaces and quietly resume my reading.
[I know what you’re thinking: send them out of the room! Close the door behind them! Funny story: MJ can take a running start and hit the door at such a speed and angle that she pops the pin and opens the door. If the head-butting method doesn’t work, they paw at the rug and whimper, like cats. It’s really just easier (sigh) to let them in.]
One after the other, they sneak back onto the bed. Shenanigans ensue.
When you see me at work the next day, and I look like I’ve gotten less than, oh, 6 hours sleep, you now know why.