Pet owners need to have a certain openness and fluidity when it comes to their pets: they really are our furry children. In my case, my fluidity boils down to me needing to be a paragon of flexibility and near double-jointedness.
We have a small(ish) dog. She’s a spaniel mix, and weighs about 20 pounds. She’s neurotic, occasionally jumpy, and the shrillest early warning system known to man. Is there someone heading down the block on a skateboard? She will notify me, very loudly and clearly.
She’s also an affectionate little thing who seems to experience night time insecurity. When our little furball has a nightmare, it is not unusual for her to climb onto my head.
That’s right, our dog is apparently part cat – and likes to sleep on my head.
I think we need a training program for humans on how to sleep with your pets.
We have a king sized bed here: on a nightly basis it is occupied by one small dog, and two relatively small adult humans.
Who do you think steals the entire bed? That’s right – Liesl, the dog.
Some of her perennial favorites:
1. Alphabet games
Midnight will see us forming the letter V: feet together, heads way apart, with Liesl stretched as
far as she can reach between our heads.
2. Wrestling pin
This is when one of us realizes that the dog has sprawled atop the blanket, between our ankles or knees, preventing movement. It’s a doozy when you’re not awake all the way, because it feels like someone has trapped you.
3. The Clutch
Somehow, Liesl manages to wrap all four of her legs around my head. When I attempt to retreat, she clutches at my skull and nuzzles closer.
4. The Nose
She works her way closer to my partner’s face by slowly and surely stealing most of the pillow. When my other half attempts to do something small, such as turn her head, she ends up with a nose embedded in her cheek, eye socket, and so on.
5. The Nudge
This is the stealthy move. Everybody is drifting off to sleep, and Liesl shifts to lie across the bed. She seems to take turns on which of us she targets with this move. While snuggling one human with her head, Liesl begins pushing the other human further away with her back legs. It starts with a little nothing of a push, but the more we move, the more she pushes.
I’m serious, we need a pilates/yoga/martial arts program to ready us for the ups and downs of sharing a bed with a dog. It’s a dangerous event, happening nightly.