Turn the Other Cheek

When I got Girly Girl, my first greyhound and heart dog, I had decided the rule of the house was going to be no hounds on the furniture. Human beds were for humans and dog beds were for dogs. That lasted until the first time GG gave me the puppy dog eyes and asked to sleep on my bed with me. I melted and then caved.

Once the floodgates are opened there is no shutting them. Subsequently Blue would join me on the bed until he was supplanted by Bettina. On that score, poor Blue had no choice. She claimed the bed and refused to let him up. Poor baby, he rarely dares enter the bedroom any more despite my frequent attempts to show him he has seniority.

Bettina’s usual routine is to wait until I get settled into bed and then join me. She hops up on “her” side of the bed and checks everything out. Then she spends some time determining exactly where she will lay herself down. Most often, she sleeps with her back to the edge of the bed. Her four legs are stretched out and her feet are touching my back.

During the course of the night, I am usually awakened a few times by a foot in the armpit or a kick to the stomach. Bettina is as restless a sleeper as her mumma is. Lucky me. By morning, she is usually spooning me with her head on my pillow, snoring and drooling.

The other night, like most nights, Bettina assumed her usual position on the bed and after reading a short while, I turned out the lights and we were soon asleep. At some point during my lovely slumber I became aware of a strange sensation. Bettina had worked her way towards the end of the bed and was dreaming. I had been awakened by four greyhound feet drumming out a racing rhythm on my behind.

The dream race picked up momentum and her feet were furiously pistoning against my poor backside. When you wake up in this situation, you don’t really know what the proper protocol is. Do you do the polite thing and let her finish her race? Do you wake her up and prevent worse gluteal bruising? I was sleep befuddled and at a loss as to how best to proceed. Bettina, in her dream, certainly had no trouble proceeding and the race continued.

Eventually I give up trying to reason anything out in the middle of the night. I waited while she finished up her race. Her sharp clawed paws drumming and clawing and kicking me in the posterior. It’s possible that the racing surface she was using somehow replicated the racing surface of her dream. In any case, she never woke.

The race eventually concluded and mumma finally was able to get back to sleep. I awoke the next morning with a small black greyhound curled contentedly in the crook of my neck. Though I know that one should turn the other cheek, both of mine were all scratched and bruised and I was crabby from loss of sleep. It was thus that I could not resist waking Bettina with a pinch to her bony little greyhound bum.