House of Rude Sleepers
Fine. I will admit it. I am a cover hog. But, that does not make me rude. It just makes me cold. "Every time you roll over you take all the blankets with you," my Sweet Sven complained one morning. This was an interesting statement coming from the same man who not that long ago, poked me in the eye at three AM. "I thought you were a deer," he'd explained. "Why would you poke a deer in the eye?" Fortunately the optometrist said that my retina was not detached and I could return to work. And then I had to stay late to make up my time. "It was charging our car," Sven defended himself. "Well, I am not trying to steal your covers anymore than you are trying to poke my eye out, " I said. "But you do take them. Every time you move." "Yes. And you are the one who yells at people in the middle of the night." "Did I do it again?" "Yep." "Who did I yell at last night?" "I don't know, Sven. It was your dream. You belted out something like, you want a piece of me, punk?!" "I did?" "You also swear like a sailor when you are asleep." "I do not." "Um. Yes. You do." "Well, you swear like a sailor when you are awake." He had me there. We were at a stale mate. So, I turned my attention on Hunter. "At least we are not as rude as that dog." Hunter perked up. Hunter loves being the center of attention. He does not care why. "Nobody is as rude as Hunter," agreed Sven. "Whether they are awake or asleep. And what the hell was his problem last night?" "He was protecting us from coyotes." "I didn't hear any coyotes." "Maybe there was distant thunder." "You always make excuses for him." Hunter of course was following our conversation. And he decided it was time to tell his side of what the hell all his howling had been about. Well, his defense was ridiculous. And loud. "I just about shit my pants when you let loose," I scolded him. "I had to change mine," said Sven. "But, at least I was wide awake. So I could steal some covers back from your mom." Getting a good nights sleep is important. They say it promotes good health. And we do our best to stay healthy around here. To keep our life in balance. Like, if we were to order a hot fudge Mary Jane and French fries. We would order a diet cherry coke to go with. And if we happen to have celery in the fridge. We are sure to put a little celery under our peanut butter. It's called choosing your own battles. Making your own success stories. That is why we three, as in Sven, Hunter and I, are working on getting a good nights sleep. It seems so much easier than cutting out cigarettes, wine and or butter slathered rawhide bones. So. We have decided to become considerate sleepers. Which is not as easy as it sounds. Since we are asleep. And that is probably why it's not working the best. And why Sven hollered out at the top of his lungs, "Fred! Are we all wearing Khakis?" the other night. If that doesn't wake up you and your dog. You both might be dead. Fred happens to be Sven's one and only Facebook friend. They were in the Coast Guard together back in the 1800's. And on the golf team. Apparently they were having some sort of a reunion and Sven hadn't brought any khaki pants with him on the trip. Because they are seriously ugly. And so he doesn't own any, that he can find anyway, since I put them in the way back of his closet. And apparently this caused quite a panicky situation. I myself, was grateful for his sudden outburst. Because I happened to be in the middle of a terrible dream. I'd lost my baby, Marques, at a baseball game. And I was looking for him at a basketball game. And in those very bleachers is where I was diagnosed with osteoporosis, which sounded quite deadly. And unfortunately, the only place that could cure me they said, was some hospital in California. And on top of that, my insurance would not cover my medical bills or my flight. And I still hadn't found my baby. The only one who seemed to be unscathed by the entire event, was Hunter. He just looked at us and put his head back down. Sven retrieved some blankets from under me. We said good night. Again. I eventually got over the loss of my thirty-nine year old missing child, and dozed off. Until a coyote or perhaps it was distant thunder or maybe Hunter couldn't find his khaki collar, that is. But that does not mean we are giving up. That was just one little battle. One little night. We will continuously strive for perfection. Because that is what we are made of.