So I think that I have mentioned once or twice now that I get some significant back issues when I’m pregnant. As a result, I have not slept in my own bed for months. I actually tried to a couple of months back and was in so much pain after an hour or so that I could barely turn over. So, I sleep on the couch. Something about the angle, the pillows, something supports me enough that it isn’t unbearable.
But, I have one little problem. Thunder. No, not the weather kind. I’m talking about a little dog with a tiny brain and a huge attitude problem.
We have three dogs. Thunder is the only male. His name is a little deceptive. Had I been the one to name him, he would have gotten something more appropriate. Like Pierre. Or Nancy. He is absolutely the omega dog in our household. The two females make sure he stays in line. He eats last. He even waits for them to walk out the door before he will go outside. He knows his place.
Except at bedtime.
I can’t tell you how many nights I wake up to W~ crying, only to find him trying to push 15 pounds of growling obstinacy off of his bed. Lately, though, he has been focusing his forced snuggle time on me. Because, of course, you really want your extra space occupied by a dog when you are pregnant, round, and sleeping on a couch.
So, last night as I was preparing to go to sleep, I headed towards my “bed” and was greeted by this:
Honestly, what kind of moronic animal sleeps wedged between the couch frame and the cushions? Thankfully, something distracted him and he got up on his own. Heavens knows that there is no way I could have gotten him out of there without a fight. He may be small and stupid, but he is stubborn as all get out. Serious Napoleon complex.
Oh, which brings to mind a funny story (because I’m sure you’re all enthralled by my gripping discussion of my dog). Thunder is a shih tzu. My sister’s dog, Dexter, is a St. Bernard. Thunder, in his heart of hearts, believes that he is every bit as big as Dexter, and will follow him around the back yard, taking turns watering the foliage. So, one day many months back, my sister was over and the dogs were out doing their rounds. The brother-in-law came in and proclaimed that my dog was “absolutely disgusting.” When I asked why, his response was, “You’re dog just peed on my dog’s head!”
OK, take a second to process that.
Do you have a mental picture yet?
Barring any superhero powers or doggy trampolines, there is only one way that a fifteen pound dog could pee on the head of an almost 200 pound dog–and the small one doesn’t get the blame.
Geez, if I tried hard enough, I think I could probably find some deep metaphorical lesson in that. From now on, if someone complains about the consequences of their actions, I think I’ll just tell them that big dogs only get pee on their noses if they stick their face in the stream.
And on that note, I think I’ll go to bed (if no one is hiding in the cushions).