Dog Chores

Like many American families we own a dog. She is a black lab who must have been the runt of her litter. We adopted her from a local shelter and never got her full story. She’s 50 pounds soaking wet with the biggest brown eyes God ever gave a dog and the floppiest ears that make me think she could be part rabbit. She’s a loving dog who made her way into our hearts the first time we saw her.

She has one fatal down fall-my bed!

What do a dog and a bed have to do with each other? It’s simple-they have a love affair all their own that stands between me and a good nights sleep.

As a young parent I can attest to the fact sleep in a precious commodity. My days are filled with preparing food for the kids like the chef at a restaurant, being the chairman of the entertainment committee, the head maid, a personal shopper and fitting in a mere 8 hours of work. My nights are consumed with bathing anything that poops, wrestling children to bed, singing songs, saying prayers, and getting up in the middle of the night for whoever’s turn it is to keep mommy up… not to mention prepping the workload and household for the next day. When all of these chores are done for the day and it is finally time for me to get into bed, a whole new set of chores begins.

These are the dog chores. It begins with walking into my bedroom and being hit by the stench of several hours of dog fart bomb assaults that were launched from a strategic position. After I managed to stop the burning feeling from causing my eyes to water and turn on the fan to dissipate the smell, I am challenged with the task of moving the sound asleep dog off my Laura Ashley pillow shams. Our dog feels it is not only her right, but also her obligation to snuggle up on top of our pillows as if the bed alone wasn’t good enough.

The next step in this night ritual is a melody of claps and whistles designed to inspire the dog to move to the foot of the bed on her own. I gave up on trying to get her off the bed completely a few years ago. We are supposed to have an agreement that she sleeps at the foot of the bed…she breaks this agreement many times every night.

The singsong of “C’mon girl…c’mon…let’s go!!” quickly turns to a stern “Let’s go!” Followed by the use of her full name. Yes I said full name…if you have a dog you know they have a full name too. After several minutes of these attempts I finally give up and pick her up and drag her to the foot of the bed. With a huff she promptly stands up, walks in a circle and a half, then lies back down. Gee thanks dog! You couldn’t do that 10 minutes ago. By this time I am so exhausted I don’t even bother trying to remove all the dog hair that now clings to my pillows and blankets. Inhaling them as I sleep has become as normal as breathing.

After I finally get into bed, my husband always manages to walk in and ask, “You’re just going to bed now?” My response is always a feeble yes as if this battle has almost beaten me…maybe it’s knowing what I have laying ahead of me…a long night of clinging to the edge of my bed and trying to find space to put my legs that is not taken up by the dog.

Tell me again why we let the dog “sleep” with us?