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.