Making the Bed

The Face of a Helpful Dog

I'm a very busy dog.  I have squirrels to chase out my yard, crumbs to snuff up, things to shed on, and people walking by my house to bark furiously at.  And then there are the naps...mustn't forget all the naps I must squeeze into an already busy day.  But regardless of my busy schedule, I always make time to help with one specific chore:  making the bed.

There's just something about the entire process.  As soon as I notice someone stripping the bed of its sheets or rearranging the covers so that they are nice and neat, I just have to get involved.

First, I saunter nonchalantly into the room.  I eye the bed.  I eye the person making the bed.  I eye the bed again.  Then I rest my chin on the edge of the mattress.  Next, I pretend to listen as the person making the bed informs me that I am not, under any circumstances, allowed to jump up on the bed.  I wag my tail when he or she finally stops talking, my chin still resting on the edge of the mattress.  Then, in the middle of the phrase "no, no, no," I leap up onto the bed.

Time is now of the essence.  I must make it to the middle of the bed and throw myself down, preferably with my belly up to the sky (I'm unmovable dead weight when I'm lying on my back), before the person trying to make the bed grabs hold of my collar and guides me off with a gentle heave-ho.  And if I make it to this point-to the middle of the bed with my belly up to the sky-then the fun really begins.

Comfy Cozy

It starts with exasperated pretend crying by the person trying to make the bed which usually results in everyone else in the household gathering around to see what all the hubbub is about.  Noting my helpfulness, everyone circles around me and starts rubbing my ears, scratching my tummy, and commenting on the fact that I'm such a troublesome and rotten dog (we all know these statements are totally false).  Eventually, someone (usually Sister) tries to make me look foolish by tucking me in under the covers, but I don't care because it's actually very cozy.

After much belly rubbing and carrying on, the person who had previously been trying to make the bed declares that he or she has had enough of my shenanigans and proceeds to try to figure out a way to remove me from the bed.  Pa's technique is to slide me over to the side of the bed and guide me off by my collar.  Ma and Sister resort to bribery in the form of a cookie.  Three guesses which technique I prefer.

Anyway, just because I've been booted off the bed doesn't mean that I'm done helping.  The bed still needs to be made after all!  Having consumed my cookie (or sulked briefly in another room), I quickly circle back to the bedroom and, with a flying leap (accompanied once again by "no, no, no"), I jump back onto the bed and assume belly up to the sky position.

Resting Comfortably

By this time (and all subsequent times thereafter), the patience of the person trying to make the bed is beginning to wane, but I don't care because I think this entire exchange is beyond fun.  In fact, I've been known to continue helping long after the bed maker has given up and stalked off angrily.

My Aunt B

Aunt B and I have had a very special relationship ever since I first came to live with my family.

It started with her rushing over to meet me when my family brought me home (I knew we were going to get on famously when she started gushing about how cute I was).  As 'Nanny B' she would check in on me during the day when my family was at work and taught me how to roll over on command.  She even rushed to my aid (and Sister's as well) when I tore off my first toenail at six months old (not only did she drive me to the vet, she also helped clean up the blood that had splattered all over the floor and walls).

Of course, over the years, we've had some disagreements.  You see, she and I have very different thoughts regarding drool.  She doesn't want me to drag my sopping wet chin across her nice clean pant legs; leaving "slug trails" in my wake.  I, on the other paw, see "slug trails" as a sign of affection (but I would like the record to show that I did make some attempt at reaching her half way by giving her a homemade "Sham-Drool" one Christmas and I swear, when I spent the rest of the day trying to steal it back, I was only doing so so that I could wipe my mouth and not because I wanted to rip off each individually glued on "Sham-Drool" letter that Sister had so carefully cut out of felt and glued on).  But despite our differences in opinion, Aunt B and I get along great.  So great, in fact, that a couple of days ago, when she and Sister were out shopping, Aunt B bought me a new toy--a bright orange monkey named George.

George and Me

I love my monkey toy.  I love him so much that he and I have pretty much been inseparable over the last two days (I even managed to sneak him outside this morning though Pa eventually took him away because he didn't want George to get all wet in the snow).  And speaking of getting wet, George is extremely absorbent; he's already seeped up three times his weight in drool (hey, that's what happens when you carry a toy around in your mouth all day).  Even more surprising, however, is that, despite having to be reminded repeatedly not to gnaw off his ears or tail, George is still in one piece and has not required a trip to the dreaded toy hospital.

So thank you Aunt B for buying me this awesome toy and hopefully it will still be in one piece the next time you come over (though I can't guarantee it)!

Photographic Proof

Sister and I have had this argument before.  She insists that I'm a bed hog and I think she just doesn't want to share with her sweet little baby brother.  In the past, there has never been a way to definitively prove which one of us was telling the truth (though we all know that I am beyond trustworthy and Sister has shifty eyes); it's always been a he said she said situation.  Last night, however, that changed.  I now have photographic evidence that proves, without a doubt, that I am in no way a bed hog.  Consider the following image:

This was taken at 12:30am when Sister decided that it was time for bed (I had already been snoozing for a good hour having claimed my spot early in the evening).  As the picture clearly shows, there is a good eleven or twelve inches of mattress on either side of me--more than enough room for Sister to squeeze in.  And please note that she also has access to the blankets in both sides, so she can't complain about being cold!

But she did complain (and not about being cold...her complaint was about the lack of room) and do you know what she did?  She moved me out of her way!  First, however, she had to wait until I rolled back onto my side (I learned early on that if I'm on my back no one can lift or move me--and believe me I've use this to my benefit many a time).  Once I had finally flipped over, she started shimmying me over toward one side of the bed, first by moving my front half a few inches, then my back half, and then my front half again (yeah, it's as undignified as it sounds).  Sometimes I sleep right through this process, but on this particular night I got up, jumped off the bed, and stalked off to find another place to sleep.

So tell me, who is being selfish here?