Sunday, January 27, 2013


It is hard to get rest when sleeping with crocodiles...

This weekend I lost my mind and in a moment of...well not quite tenderness...I offered to take the dogs I share with my ex for the weekend.  At 1:00 a.m. I was dreaming that I was flying over a swamp in my car on my way to a revival meeting, tent and all.  What I actually woke to was a bed in total shambles and two large black Labs eyeing me like I was a milkbone.  That was at 2:00 a.m.  Rather than be devoured by what I used to think was my own dog pack, I fed them.  Again, it is 2:00 a.m. and I know this is probably in the Pavlov Dog world not a smart move since I am only training them to wake me at any time.  In my defense was 2:00 a.m....

The day continued to be a battle of wills.  It was freezing rain outside but I was determined today to exhaust these beasts in order to get a good night's sleep.  What really irks me is that my ex claims they always sleep through the night when they are with him.  Granted, I have a small full size bed and he has a king size bed which means I am literally sandwiched between the beasts for at least 6 hours a night.  I always start them on the floor but mysteriously and stealthily they don their night goggles and creep onto the bed during my REM cycle.  I picture them paws waving circling the bed in order to jump up in one fluid barely perceptible motion.  I wonder how long they have been watching my sonorous form before they commando crawl within inches of my face.  Eventually one will be brave enough to lick my ear. 

Once full contact has been made it is only a matter of time before I succumb to their plaintiff moans and stumble out of bed.  I am always twisted in a knot of blankets since the wrestling between the three of us has been going on for quite some time.  I am sometimes able to free my feet from the binding sheets but I am no match for their eight legs and inevitably we all fall to the ground in a growling heap.  Usually my trek to the bathroom to wash the blood from my cheek is interrupted by a red ball dropped at my feet.  Sometimes after a feeding and a walk outside I am able to fall back to sleep, whence (how english of me) the game starts all over again.

I had a german exchange student stay at my house one time when my ex and I were married.  He was a tall young man and much to my surprise he was scared to death of our dogs.  I discovered this one morning when I noticed he was still on the couch with a 100 pound brown Lab on his chest.  I am pretty sure he suffered from Post Traumatic Stress since it was dinner before he described the horror that interrupted his sleep.  I showed him my stash of treats and left him with this thought "wrestling crocodiles is easy compared to owning a hungry Lab." 


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