“I can’t think of anything that brings me closer to tears than when my old dog—completely exhausted after a hard day in the field—limps away from her nice spot in front of the fire and comes over to where I’m sitting and puts her head in my lap, a paw over my knee, and closes her eyes, and goes back to sleep. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve that kind of friend.” ~ Gene Hill
I needed a good stretch and a long walk this morning.
It’s because of my bed. Because of the way I’ve been sleeping.
After a week away on retreat I was so looking forward to coming home and sleeping in my own bed. And for the past few nights that is where I’ve rested. But I’ve been waking up stiff and sore.
Usually my bed is like sleeping in a cloud. Comfy mattress, just the right amount of pillows, a little lavender oil on the sheets, and a view out my nighttime windows to the moon-bathed trees.
I have a problem since I came home.
Dogs that sneak up onto the bed in dead of night. Large Cafe-Dog-and-Nurse-Bert-shaped dogs, who drape themselves along me, pressing their whole body weight to me. Dogs who use their substantial body weight to lie on top of me, where I am snuggled up to my sleeping husband, and then use that body weight to slowly wedge themselves between us and open a space on the middle of the bed. After which they extend themselves, claiming all of the space, and most of the blankets.
So we sleep like human pretzels, contorted into strange positions.
The dogs wake before me and then stare at me, waiting for my eyelids to crack open so that they can slather me in affection and help me greet the day.
I guess they missed me!
Still, I missed them too, so all is forgiven. And an early morning walk fixes everything.
Sending much love and good clean country air your way,