I Made My Bed

I made my bed and now I want to lay in it. Making my bed is hard. First of all, I need a step stool to get in the bed and to put the sheets on. My bedroom is tight (cozy) and getting the fitted sheet on is an ordeal, especially if my thumb wants to object.

I used to have higher standards for the place I sleep. I used to change the sheets every other day or so. They had to be pulled taut, no wrinkles. The top sheet had to have a nice big turn down, so that if I wanted to pull it up to my chin, I didn't put any undo pressure on my toes. The blanket had to be tucked into the sheet and the bedspread folded down twice atop the blanket. A mere grain of sand could make me get up and change the sheets.

Nowadays, things are different. It all started with a tiny black and tan Dachshund named Oscar. He was originally a gift to my son-in-law from my daughter. She proudly showed me this dog and urged me to hold him. I declined, told her that I had "real" dogs, not some squeaky little yipper to trip on. My Collie and Saint Bernard were superior to this little handful of a dog in every way.

Oscar became the bane of her very existence. She would recite every reason in the world that she hated this dog. He peed in the floor, he cried all night, he chewed on things, and his tongue was too long. What? He licked her and she did not appreciate this form of affection. She swore that he was making her vomit every day. Poor little guy, the writing was on the wall, he needed a new home. Time would not have helped the relationship. Remember the vomiting? It wasn't the dog, his long tongue or his hound dog smell. She was pregnant with my beautiful granddaughter.

She begged me to take this dog and finally threatened to drop him off at the pound! I took the dog. I have never been partial to little dogs, but I fell head over heels in love with him. Oscar has no self esteem issues. He is sure that he is the very center of the universe. The very first night he wormed his way into my bed and has been there ever since. The Collie, Sarge, had always slept with my grandson, Danny. When Danny got bunk beds, Sarge had the bottom bunk and Danny took the top. But my bed was off limits.

Oscar changed all that. I tried to encourage him to sleep on top of a special blanket just for him. This was to keep dog hair and whatever happened to be tracked in on his feet off my sheets. My fresh taut sheets with the blanket enfolded into the top sheet just so ......... Ah, memories.

When Oscar turned 6 months old, we bought him a wife, Emmy. She fit in the shirt pocket of my husband. She was as sweet as Oscar was demanding. I don't think she met a soul in her life who did not fall under her spell.

So now we had two little dogs in our bed. Two little dogs burrowed under the sheet and blanket with their little paws releasing sand and grass and whatever they walked through before getting into bed. It is a king size bed, so space should not have been an issue; but it was. Oscar must be able to touch me. I am his person and he merely tolerates others. He likes to lay with his back pushed up against my thigh. This is great in the winter. He is warm. But he is also warm every other season.

Emmy was content to cuddle with the person she found herself next to and usually slept next to He Who loved her best. But, the dog hair and sand in my bed nearly drove me nuts. I would grab one of those lint removers and clean the bottom sheet before making the bed every day. I would pull all the sheet off in between washings and take them onto the deck and shake them out.

Before long, the Saint Bernard decided to get in on the mattress action. This did present a space problem. Louise was a sprawler and once she got comfy was impossible to move. We had to ban her from the bedroom. She took over the sofa. Remember, the Collie had his own bed.

Fast forward to today. I still have four dogs in my bed, just not the same ones. Oscar is still with us and despite the dog hair and the inevitable grain or two hundred of sand, I doubt I would be able to fall asleep without the pressure of his back against my thigh. Wall-E likes to sleep near my face. In between our pillows. He used to sleep next to his Papa, but Toni Louise now claims that spot. Oscar has taught them all to sleep under covers. Toni Louis sports a heavy fur coat, but will comply by sticking just her head under the covers. Wall-E is somewhat cold natured and likes a good blanket atop his body, but prefers to have his nose sticking out.

The new dog, Cujo, in true Dachshund form, goes full body under covers. He seems to know exactly where Emmy used to sleep when she slept next to me. In my armpit. When I woke this morning, in my bed of wrinkled sheets, full of every color of dog hair, I did not leap out the bed in horror. Instead, I lay there feeling the weight of a sweet little dog against my ribs (well-padded ribs). For just fraction of a second, I thought it was my Sweet Emmy Lou. It was Cujo and his warm little body. He had sought me out in the night. He has Emmy's disposition and Oscar's determined loyalty. I felt him wag his little tail as soon as he realized I was awake. It is worth a few grains of sand and some dog hair.