Following up to today's blog post: evidence of sleeptime invasions!
Debbie's "Princess" pug Lucy is the ruler of this bed, as you can see here.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Because we love when our dogs invade our sleeping space...
Boundary No.1: The Bed
So, I'm in the process of moving back home for a while. Yes, I know I am too old for this, but hush you ugly voices in my head! And I am getting reacquainted with my old bed. Since I moved out after college, my parents have stripped my bedroom of all its childlike pink and green flowery print furniture and themes, replacing the comforter with a plain white down and my nightstand with a Victorian style navy blue lampstand. This new decor doesn't mesh well with the pea green wall paint. I'm moving a ton of stuff into the room right now. The closet's a mess of old clothes that need to be dropped off at the Good Will and new clothes that I can't find because the old clothes are in the way. And there are boxes of old albums and miscellaneous trinkets that I can't find the courage to toss out yet piled upon my old desk.
And in the middle of this mess, there's a dog crate. And I must say, most of the time, a very empty dog crate.
Since Linus has arrived at Dad's, I am pleased to report he has lost a couple pounds. Not pounds that he needed to lose, but pounds that he has shed along with his old way of life. He's gone from chilling at the apartment all day with evening walks to spending his days exhausting himself with two playmates in a backyard. So, in the past few weeks, my (constantly dirty) athlete has discovered he can spring like a little wind up toy onto my bed without permission or hesisitation. And from the look on his face, you can tell he's quite proud of this new development.
It never fails. I'll walk into my bathroom, brush my teeth, wash my face and moisturize. I'll turn the corner to head to bed, and someone else's mound of a head is lying on my pillow. Literally, on my pillow as much as it will fit. He's already snoring, even though his eyes are open, and staring right at me as if to say, "Oh, I'm sorry. Were YOU planning to sleep here?"
I am almost certain his body gets heavier when he lies on my bed. I have to peel him away from the sheets, without any of his help, and cradle him in my arms. Once, I have to literally roll him off the bed because I didn't have the energy to pick him up. And he refuses to help you remove him. When we get to the crate, which sits at the foot of the bed (close enough, right, buddy?), he gives me such an expression of disdain, I usually apologetically resituate him on top of the comforter. I am such a sucker.
A few nights I have let him stay on the bed all night, as long as he remains on top of the covers. Mind you, his snoring is so loud that only a mother's love would permit the noise. He's the biggest bed bully I've ever known - and my sister, Laura Marie, is a pretty tough one to beat. I've woken up at 3 a.m. dangling along the side of the bed to find my monster sprawled out as far as his compact little body will allow in the dead center of the bed. How he manages to do this is a midnight mystery that I may never uncover.
I am a sucker when it comes to bedtime for two reasons, mainly:
1. He's so darned cute when he's tired. Either he's a perfect picture of innocence, or he really knows how to act. And I don't know who taught him that skill (perhaps one of my Dad's dogs). But he's good at it.
2. Bedtime is the only time he really shows much interest in Mom. Lately, Linus has entered a macho stage of his adolescence - he thinks he's too good for Mommy. He will greet me with genuine affection, but he never wants to snuggle with me. Heartbreaking as this is, I am always reassured that he still loves me when I see he has snuck up to snuggle on my bed. He doesn't invade Dad's bed, Noah's bed or anyone else's bed ... just mine. And there's something endearing about his choice of sleep location. I can't help but think he chooses me because he knows who Mommy is.
So here's my ruling on Boundary No. 1: The bed is a place for human rest, not doggie rest. If your pet is climbing with confidence atop your bed and snuggling under your sheets, as mine is, he is undoubtedly showing signs of dominance that are too easilly confused with adorableness. But every so often, especially if you are dealing with a macho man like me, soak up all the love you can while it lasts. Because before you know it, the alarm will go off. He'll leap off the bed to the food bowl or the back door. And that peaceful time you get to share together will be gone.
And in the middle of this mess, there's a dog crate. And I must say, most of the time, a very empty dog crate.
Since Linus has arrived at Dad's, I am pleased to report he has lost a couple pounds. Not pounds that he needed to lose, but pounds that he has shed along with his old way of life. He's gone from chilling at the apartment all day with evening walks to spending his days exhausting himself with two playmates in a backyard. So, in the past few weeks, my (constantly dirty) athlete has discovered he can spring like a little wind up toy onto my bed without permission or hesisitation. And from the look on his face, you can tell he's quite proud of this new development.
It never fails. I'll walk into my bathroom, brush my teeth, wash my face and moisturize. I'll turn the corner to head to bed, and someone else's mound of a head is lying on my pillow. Literally, on my pillow as much as it will fit. He's already snoring, even though his eyes are open, and staring right at me as if to say, "Oh, I'm sorry. Were YOU planning to sleep here?"
I am almost certain his body gets heavier when he lies on my bed. I have to peel him away from the sheets, without any of his help, and cradle him in my arms. Once, I have to literally roll him off the bed because I didn't have the energy to pick him up. And he refuses to help you remove him. When we get to the crate, which sits at the foot of the bed (close enough, right, buddy?), he gives me such an expression of disdain, I usually apologetically resituate him on top of the comforter. I am such a sucker.
A few nights I have let him stay on the bed all night, as long as he remains on top of the covers. Mind you, his snoring is so loud that only a mother's love would permit the noise. He's the biggest bed bully I've ever known - and my sister, Laura Marie, is a pretty tough one to beat. I've woken up at 3 a.m. dangling along the side of the bed to find my monster sprawled out as far as his compact little body will allow in the dead center of the bed. How he manages to do this is a midnight mystery that I may never uncover.
I am a sucker when it comes to bedtime for two reasons, mainly:
1. He's so darned cute when he's tired. Either he's a perfect picture of innocence, or he really knows how to act. And I don't know who taught him that skill (perhaps one of my Dad's dogs). But he's good at it.
2. Bedtime is the only time he really shows much interest in Mom. Lately, Linus has entered a macho stage of his adolescence - he thinks he's too good for Mommy. He will greet me with genuine affection, but he never wants to snuggle with me. Heartbreaking as this is, I am always reassured that he still loves me when I see he has snuck up to snuggle on my bed. He doesn't invade Dad's bed, Noah's bed or anyone else's bed ... just mine. And there's something endearing about his choice of sleep location. I can't help but think he chooses me because he knows who Mommy is.
So here's my ruling on Boundary No. 1: The bed is a place for human rest, not doggie rest. If your pet is climbing with confidence atop your bed and snuggling under your sheets, as mine is, he is undoubtedly showing signs of dominance that are too easilly confused with adorableness. But every so often, especially if you are dealing with a macho man like me, soak up all the love you can while it lasts. Because before you know it, the alarm will go off. He'll leap off the bed to the food bowl or the back door. And that peaceful time you get to share together will be gone.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Household boundaries: When sanitary means sanity
I have a steadfast theory on bathrooms: there are two things that don't belong in this very private space. Item No. 1 is food. This rule was reinforced while I was living with my sister. I nearly had a fit of disgust every time I saw a plate... yes, I kid you not... a plate decorated with little crumbs and smears of ketchup situated on the sink of my sister's bathroom. Simply stated, where things come out, things don't need to be coming in. It's a rule of thumb that just makes sense. There are specific rooms where eating is acceptable in the home - the area where your toilet resides is not one of those rooms.
Thing No. 2, and the subject of this blog, is animals. Call me crazy, but if I see a fly in a bathroom, that fly is destined for a swift death - or I'm not in there. It creeps me out to no end when an animal is around when I shower. Our most loyal dog Ellie will sneak in and lie on the bathmat while I'm showering, which I used to think was a weird mix of endearing and creepy. Now it's just gross and creepy.
Below: Do you really belong there, or is Mom letting you get away with it?
Animals, even the ones we love the most, are not the best models for personal hygiene. If their feet have been in dirty places, they are dragging dirt and germs into spaces where you are meant to get yourself clean for the day. Linus drops drool, sheds hair and carries along whatever germs he's picked up from the outside wherever her roams. He doesn't wash his hands or carry antibacterial soap, although, wouldn't it be nice if he did?
Now, generally, I am a pretty lax pet owner when it comes to pets in my spaces. Our pack currently has reign to jump on the couch, go to the basement and even cuddle on the beds for short periods (that's excluding Dad's bed). I'm not worried about kisses on faces or paws pattering through the kitchen. If I lived so uptight that I couldn't allow my dog to enjoy the space we share, then he wouldn't be a true member of the family.
With that said, I am fully aware that dogs should have boundaries in the household. It's something, now that we have a new living space, I need to consider to keep the human side of our family happy. We had a rude awakening after we hired a cleaning lady to thoroughy sweep our hunter green living room carpet last week. That very afternoon, Linus jovially entered and romped like a rolling pin across the carpet. As cute as this was, I dreaded being a witness as he painted the carpet with bits of creamy hair. Further strife ensued when all three dogs bombarded the kitchen to get a shot at some drippings as I loaded dishwasher. Dad has ZERO TOLERANCE for this: he kicks, yells and shoos them out of there. I'm beginning to be convinced, new boundaries need to be set for those spaces where our animals become nuances.
For sanity and my sanitary reasons, I am going to do a series of blogs on how to monitor your dog's boundaries in the home. My first question to readers is: Where, in your home, is off limits to your dog? Where do dogs NOT belong?
Thing No. 2, and the subject of this blog, is animals. Call me crazy, but if I see a fly in a bathroom, that fly is destined for a swift death - or I'm not in there. It creeps me out to no end when an animal is around when I shower. Our most loyal dog Ellie will sneak in and lie on the bathmat while I'm showering, which I used to think was a weird mix of endearing and creepy. Now it's just gross and creepy.
Below: Do you really belong there, or is Mom letting you get away with it?
Now, generally, I am a pretty lax pet owner when it comes to pets in my spaces. Our pack currently has reign to jump on the couch, go to the basement and even cuddle on the beds for short periods (that's excluding Dad's bed). I'm not worried about kisses on faces or paws pattering through the kitchen. If I lived so uptight that I couldn't allow my dog to enjoy the space we share, then he wouldn't be a true member of the family.
With that said, I am fully aware that dogs should have boundaries in the household. It's something, now that we have a new living space, I need to consider to keep the human side of our family happy. We had a rude awakening after we hired a cleaning lady to thoroughy sweep our hunter green living room carpet last week. That very afternoon, Linus jovially entered and romped like a rolling pin across the carpet. As cute as this was, I dreaded being a witness as he painted the carpet with bits of creamy hair. Further strife ensued when all three dogs bombarded the kitchen to get a shot at some drippings as I loaded dishwasher. Dad has ZERO TOLERANCE for this: he kicks, yells and shoos them out of there. I'm beginning to be convinced, new boundaries need to be set for those spaces where our animals become nuances.
For sanity and my sanitary reasons, I am going to do a series of blogs on how to monitor your dog's boundaries in the home. My first question to readers is: Where, in your home, is off limits to your dog? Where do dogs NOT belong?
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