When my husband gets up in the morning, he takes Rocky and Jacques out of the room and closes the door so that I can continue to sleep. (He’s thoughtful that way.) When he comes back in the room to get ready for work, I might be semi-conscious. Usually I’m still sound asleep. If I don’t hear the door open, I definitely feel the bed shake and hear a jingle of tags before I can rouse myself into a state of actual consciousness. At that moment, I am helpless and cannot defend myself against what is coming… I cannot defend myself from being poked in the eye (or ear) by Jacques’ cold, wet nose. The coldness and force of his nose pretty much startles me awake. And when my eyes pop open, I am literally eye to eye with a wide-eyed Westie who is staring at me much such intensity that it’s almost freaky. My “mmph” is greeted by a quick lick on the nose before he grunts and throws himself down on the bed and goes to sleep (usually on or very near my head – I think he’s shooting for the husband’s pillow but has terrible aim).
The timing here is critical. If I don’t move sometime between the time Jacques pokes me in the eye and throws himself on the bed, I’ll be pinned in by this 20 pound dog who hogs more bed space than my 90 pound Shepherd ever did. Not only does he pin me in, but once he’s asleep, he’s dead to the world. Moving once he’s there is almost impossible. (Although I’m starting to think he’s “playing possum” while in the bed.) “Move to the other side” you might say. Well, I’m usually wrapped burrito-style in the blankets (in an effort to keep my husband from stealing them all in the middle of the night) so getting out of bed isn’t as easy as flinging the covers off me. I usually don’t get moved in time and wind up stuck, which isn’t terrible because I just go back to sleep for a while.
When I’m finally ready to get out of bed, I have to first unpin my arms so that I can start to work on the 20 pound pile of furry lead next to me. I poke and push and push and poke until he finally opens one eye and looks at me. “Jacques, off! Jacques, off!” I say over and over until he FINALLY decides to move. He’ll either move just enough so that I can shimmy out of my burrito blanket or he’ll move and start this ridiculously slow, calculated stretching “display” where he literally stretches everything starting with his head, moving to his front paws, then his body, followed by his back legs then tail and finished off with an exaggerated yawn. (I have to get video of this. It’s absolutely ridiculous.) Then, with an offer of food, this creature – who was, just moments before, so sleepy that he could barely open one eye – shoots off the bed like a bullet and starts running laps in the living room. And with that, the bed hog has transformed into a crazy train.
Yes, I know. I’ve done it to myself. (sigh)
SLUMBER PAR-TAY!!! (This is what happens when my husband is gone… Jacques invites some friends to come sleep in the bed.)