Thursday, March 21, 2013
We need a bigger bed
More often than not these days, he takes up all the bed, or at least two-thirds, leaving me a little tiny sliver of space with not enough blanket to cover my bottom. It's winter in New England, it can get a little drafty.
I'm not really sure how he manages to nudge me out as much as he does. I get in bed first, and stake my claim close to the middle of the bed. He has his own pillow and part of the fleece blanket he so loves, but I have most of the bed. Once he finally moseys upstairs, he snuggles up in either the crook of my knees or in what would be my lap -- the yin to my yang and all that metaphysical stuff.
But during the course of the night, he manages to inch me further and further from the center toward the edge, and I wake up on the short end of everything. Have you ever tried to move 70 solid pounds of stubborn dead weight? You need a plan.
What has evolved is our own little midnight waltz that involves strategic timing and hip checks so I actually get some space, some covers and a pillow. If I squirm enough, he is roused from his beauty sleep and has to reposition himself. When he starts to move, I throw a hip check one way, perfectly timed with pulling the covers the other way. Voila! Back to center. Often, I end up with a pit bull on my hip, but it's a bony hip and not very comfortable for him, so he has to move.
He doesn't move far, just repositions himself in one of those niches where he feels safe. At least until he scoots up and stretches out. Most mornings I wake up to whiskers and a cold nose on the pillow next to me, attached to a warm pit bull contentedly snoring away.