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She doesn’t smell like a cat, but it’s just this feeling that is there…every time she stretches and arches her back or every time she does one of those little murmurs of satisfaction that sound ridiculously like a cat purring, I can feel it. Like there is a cat watching, but I can’t quite figure out from where. It’s disturbing frankly. I sometimes worry that there is a cat, secretly wearing the Mama as a meat suit, kind of like that Edgar guy from Men in Black.
I need my beauty rest.
I’m a busy puggle and I have to look my best. I can’t be sitting up all hours waiting for the Mama to quit pecking at the keyboard. It’s enough that I have to hear that incessant tappity-tappity-tapping but seriously? She watches TV while she types. And Facebooks. And Twitters. she checks her phone and e-mails and she jots down ideas for recipes. It’s overwhelming for a little dog like me. A puggle needs peace and quiet while I prepare for my bed time.
Sometimes, the Mama leaves me no choice but to take myself to bed.
I nestle into the bed, with my sweet puggley head on the pillow and my cute puggley butt snuggled under the covers. I sprawl out. I get comfy. Felix does the best he can to occupy any leftover space. Together, him and I can *easily* fill up the mama’s spot on the bed.
I mean, she is clearly not appreciating how spacious and luxurious her spot is! Why shouldn’t I take advantage of it??
That is the question I posed to my Facebook friends last night:
If the Mama came to bed late, do we *have to* make room for her? I mean, we’re already pretty cozy in here and there *is* a perfectly good dog bed on the floor that she can use. What do you think? Can we keep hogging the bed?
Everyone was very helpful. Peggy from Peggy’s Pet Place suggested that I could do like Kelly and let the Mama have a little room, right at the edge of the bed. The oh so wise Pamela at Something Wagging made some very valid points about my lack of opposable thumbs and need for treat recipes. I definitely had second thoughts about usurping the Mama’s position as the Queen of the Queen bed.
Turns out, what I thought didn’t matter one little bit!
Yeah. Apparently, it doesn’t matter who got there first. According to the Mama who is totally abusing her power to make the rules, I can’t call “dibs” on her spot. What vick! According to our household dictator, as the Mama, she can just come to bed whenever she feels like it and just take over the best spot.
Last night, she actually picked me up and moved me.
Just like that. It was freaking awful. One minute I was comfy and snuggly and warm and the next minute?Cramped. Crowded. Like the Mama was trying to use her and the Daddy’s bodies to squish me, like a vice. I was mad and I pushed her away with all four paws and that lady had the audacity, after she stole MY spot, to tell me that if I wasn’t comfy, I could sleep on the floor.
There’s no need to be hurtful Mama.
You would miss me if I slept on the dog bed or in my kennel. Who would keep you warm Mama? You know that a quilt isn’t enough, especially since that Daddy insists on running that stupid fan all year. Who would snuggle you to sleep Mama? You know big ogre Daddy isn’t going to do it! Who would lick your face to wake you up from nightmares? Huh? Who would take care of you, if I didn’t sleep in the bed?? HUH? Face it Mama. You need me.
the Mama hasn’t learned anything from last night’s bedtime fiasco.
Tonight? Same problem. She’s up tap-tap-tapping and I have gone to bed. I’ve got the good spot now, but soon? She will come and take it. It’s not fair. Life’s just not fair.
I have a dream.
I call it the “Double Queen Bed”. Imagine with me, if you can, the best bed that ever existed. Two beautiful cozy queen mattresses, pushed together and topped with a wonderful piece of memory foam. One bajillion thread count custom size sheets. Luxurious layers of soft duvets. Enough room for me, the Felix, the Daddy and yes, even enough room for the Mama. It will be mine. Oh yes, it will be mine.
Do you do the bed time boogie at your house?