The other day I made the timeless and irrevocable mistake of allowing my Great Dane up on the bed for the first time. I had been sick in bed most of the day, having come home from work at noon with a stomach that had decided to wage war against me. It had every reason to, I suppose, I had given it chicken that, as it turns out, was not quite edible.
I told you I should never cook.
In any case, after sleeping for a few hours, I turned over in bed and glanced across the room to find my dog’s big brown droopy eyes staring back at me. Feeling rather chilly and sorry for myself at this point, and finding his company even more comforting than usual, I had the very ill-advised idea of calling him up on the bed.
At the time, it seemed an entirely sensible thing to do. For one, he’d never been on the bed before because I had taught him it was off limits.
Secondly, why wouldn’t I allow a warm, cozy 160lb teddy bear up to keep me warm and comfort my soul? And lastly, well, I was sort of bored and thought it would be cool.
Cool, you say? Yes, well, if cool is having a bed that is now part Great Dane, yes yes, it was a very cooooool idea.
I can’t deny it was rather delightful having him up there with me while I slept. He was warm and cozy, and did clumsy little things with his paws on the bed to make me laugh. He knew he was being allowed to be someplace special, because it took me five minutes to get him to jump up there to begin with, and once he did he just collapsed on his stomach and laid perfectly still for a good ten minutes, all starry-eyed and awestruck. It was as if he was afraid if he moved he might break the spell.
But now, of course I can’t keep him off. Oh, he won’t dare jump up there when I’m in the room. Oh no, he waits till I leave work and returns to his bed on the floor when he hears my car pull up. It’s become his little forbidden obsession, and he still thinks I don’t know what he’s doing.
I’m sorry my friend, but when I make the bed before I leave only to find blankets pulled off, pillows re-arranged, and a nice warm spot in the center of the bed, you appear about as innocent as a kitten with a milk mustache.
And when I do catch him lying upon the outlawed, delicious place, he sort of freezes and stares at me, as if that somehow makes him invisible.