With Tanner gone last weekend, I decided to replace him with some new bed mates. Don't worry, these bed mates were furry, four-legged, and wet-nosed. (If that's not specific enough for you, they were our DOGS. OK?)
Just like humans, some dogs are better bed buddies than others. My dog, Happy, (who is only called my dog when he's being good; when he's bad, he's our dog), is used to sleeping in a human bed. Back when I was single, and Happy was young and small-ish (for a Lab,) he slept in bed with me almost every night. As he got older and larger, I let him up a little less frequently. But that dog knows not to let go of a good thing, and the nights I put him to sleep (yes, I put him to sleep, like a baby) on his own doggie bed, he usually ended up crawling onto my bed in the middle of the night, somehow without waking me. Sneaky. I didn't really mind though (except for that brief period of my life when I had a white bed spread), because Happy is a sweet bed buddy. He curls up at bottom of the bed OR lays on his side, stretched out with his head on the pillow. When he does the latter, it's no different than sharing your bed with another person. Except the spooning is hairier.
Yes, I'm creepy.
Digger, on the other hand, has little experience sleeping in a human bed. He only got to hop (well, more like pitifully crawl with assistance) in bed with Tanner when the planets aligned: meaning Digger had received a bath that day, and Tanner planned on laundering the sheets and taking a shower the next morning. Remember, this is the guy who has a whole ritual of pillow-case flipping. He doesn't like dirty sheets.
Because of his lack of experience, Digger registered an ultimate FAIL this past weekend, when I graciously invited the dogs onto the bed in Tanner's absence. (To be respectful to Tanner, I bathed them both, and laundered the sheets the next day.) Happy assumed his snuggly spot on my right. Digger, on the other hand, in his ignorance, seemed to mistakenly understand that "sharing the bed" means you have to share the EXACT same spot on the bed. After pretending he couldn't make the jump, I hauled his pitiful butt up onto the bed. He circled a few times, curled up, and plopped down on the comfy spot know as my left hip bone.
He weighs 78 lbs.
I scooted over. He scooted over. I turned on my side, he wedged himself against my back. I burrowed underneath the covers and hid out at the bottom of the bed, he tunneled in after me with a head lamp. He was everywhere. I'm talking about MAJOR bed hogging. Clingy, suffocating, manic bed hogging. Finally, I gave up my diversion tactics, and straight-up tried to SHOVE him off of me. Then, I remembered another thing about Digger. Instead of moving away from pressure, he leans into it like his very survival depends on it. Try to push him off you, and he pushes back with a crushing force, bracing his legs and digging in with his claws, doing whatever it takes to move in the opposite direction you are trying to nudge him in.
Finally, at 2 AM, after fits of epic shoving fights and a relentless battle of the wills, Digger gave into fatigue and probably bruised ego, and retreated back to his dog bed.
OK, so maybe I laid on my stomach, put my hands on the wall and my feet on Digger's bottom, and pushed and grunted with all my might until Digger awkwardly tumbled off the bed, landed with a thump on his rear, and sulked in rejection to his bed.
I felt bad.
But then I fell asleep.