After George died, and we brought the wild man Ed the Dog home, we agreed he wouldn’t be allowed on the bed or furniture, as we had been sucked into that with George as a puppy.  Unfortunately George the Puppy turned into George the Horse.  He took up three quarters of the couch when he would lumber up there.  As far as the bed was concerned, there were two schools of thought on this.

I loved it.  In those days I was not working and after dropping the kids off at school on a rainy day there was nothing more seductive than hopping back into bed.  George would take the cue and rearrange himself to snuggle close to me, often “spooning” in the crook of my knees.

Animals really know how to sleep – cats, dogs, you name it.  They have no worries to keep them pacing in their heads, wondering what to do about the patient tomorrow or how they are going to be at two places at once over the weekend.  They fall asleep.  They sleep.  Deep hypnotic sleep.  I find it relaxing just to watch them sometimes! George was the king of sleep.  He didn’t get much during the summer when the boys were home, playing was the main event.  We would laugh that when winter came it was “dog law” that he would have to sleep twenty FIVE hours a day.  He was happy to oblige, and when his body would become one with the bed on those rainy mornings, I would find my body melting as well. In the silent vacuum created when three noisy boys, backpacks flying, shoes barely on, would leave for school, we would sleep a long healing sleep.

Al did not like George on the bed.  I had to agree after he passed away that it was nice not to have to wake up in the middle of the night to move what essentially was a 60 pound bag of cement on my feet.  Dogs (and cats, for that matter) do not give up their sleep space easily.  I guess it’s something from the wild, but once they’ve claimed their territory, you have to assert full owner control to get them to move.  So.  We decided no Ed on the bed.

Ed the Dog is a bit more hyper.  He sleeps, all right, but more often than not he is sitting next to us wherever we may be, sometimes actually sitting ON our feet, apparently worried about something in his unknown puppyhood. In six years we have not been able to relieve his neurosis with all the food and love a doggie could want.

When Al was gone working so much a few years ago, I was alone in the house, and I got into the habit of cuddling with Ed on the couch and watching TV until I was sleepy enough to go to my own bed and not hear ghosts and burglars.  Ed was still not allowed on the bed, but I gave in to the couch – I was lonely and cold, and he was cuddly and sweet – my own personal heating pad stuffed animal.  I dare you to resist such a remedy.

Al is so good natured.  When his stint of major travel time ended he began to joke with me “What’s he doing on the couch?  He’s not supposed to be there.”  They have a hilarious running battle now, and although Ed “knows” when Al walks in he might as well rouse himself and move, sometimes even Al can’t resist.  When Ed starts his snoring and the fire in the fireplace is warming the room and Al is reading the paper, I can get him to sometimes admit by his facial expression that it’s nice to have a warm puppy curled up next to you.

Al is home more now, and Ed took his rightful place again, but sometimes just for old times’ sake I lie down on the couch and cuddle up, fighting with Ed for blankets and position.  I grab the remote and play channel roulette until I fall asleep with my natural heating pad.