Who is she kidding?
‘Sleep in your own bed, Wilma,’ – who is she kidding? Why would I want to sleep in my own bed, when there is clearly a spare space next to Mum? She does this every time there are clean sheets on the bed. I know she doesn’t really mean it. Why anyone would want to keep the bed free of added dog hair is beyond me. I’ve got this all down to a fine art now. I go to my own bed, exactly as instructed. I make no fuss about it at all. Then I lie there waiting until I hear a change in her pattern of breathing. When I am sure she’s asleep, I get up and tiptoe round to the other side of the bed and then very quietly and very carefully I get in.
Making her jump
There is just one tine problem. It happens every time, so Mum ought to be used to it by now. When she wakes up in the middle of the night and then turns over, she jumps a mile when she feels warm breath on her face. I should maybe lie a little further away from her so I don’t scare her witless, but where’s the fun in that.
Last night wasn’t quite so good. I accidentally woke her by sneezing in her face. You cannot believe how cross she was with me. ‘Put your paw in front of your mouth and nose, Wilma.’ It’s not like I meant to do it. And, in my defence, it was Mum’s hair up my nose that made me sneeze.
Being close
I think Mum just needs to accept that she is my pack and I like to be close to my pack at night. I’d happily lie in one pile and not bother at all with this whole ‘space’ thing she’s got going on. In my book, you can never get quite close enough to your human.
Love
Wilma