There Were Rules

Note the use of the past tense. There WERE rules. One such rule was “No dogs in the bed.” Enter Trinity. No dogs in the bed became, stealth dog sneaks into the bed after I am so dead asleep I can’t object. Then the rule was, “we will allow this one dog to sleep at the end of the bed to save us from 4:30 a.m. ebullient, leaping, bounding, jumping on the bed, face-licking and chin-flea-biting wake-up calls.” Then I began to wake up with said dog impersonating a quite heavy blanket, her snoring, drooling mouth perched at my shoulder.

Now, each morning our house wakes to either the sound of the alarm, followed by the special grunt that one can only make when one moves one’s head forward quickly, only to be jerked back when one finds that one’s hair is being laid on by a 85 pound dog, or to the pre-alarm sound of my forehead striking the bedside table, as an alarm-anticipating, stretching solitary Dane leg juts forward into the back of my head, propelling my slumbering face into the nightstand.