Nocturnal Adventures

I woke up feeling a little out of sorts this morning. It might have had something to do with waking up at 4:30 with Schnoofy’s tail across my face and my nose only inches away from... Well, I’ll leave that up to your imagination. It took a while to reorganize the pillows and find a safer position during which time Simon, having also been disturbed, climbed over me, stepped on my bladder, reminding me that it was getting full and forced me to make a trip to the bathroom.

In the two minutes that I was gone, Schoofy somehow managed to stretch himself out and fill most of the top of the bed. This is a king-size bed. How one Labrador retriever could fill it is beyond me, but fill it he did, stubbornly refusing to move so I could get back in. Simon had commandeered the feather pillow, which was fine with me – I don’t like it. It was about this time that Petunia decided to join the mellee and perched herself on my chest, effectively trapping me between the two dogs, under the covers and on my back. Cue the dogs’ snoring and the cat’s purring. As I lay there contemplating the ridiculousness of the situation an itch began to develop between my shoulder blades.

I briefly thought about the Eat, Pray, Love chick meditating with the mosquitos and came to the conclusion that she made that part up. Try as I might, I could not block out the snoring, the purring, the itch or the fact that I was not comfortable laying on my back. Cue the hot flash!

It was closing in on 5 a.m. My neck, cheeks and ears were on fire. The itch between my shoulder blades was throwing a temper tantrum. The animals were conducting a nocturnal symphony of snorts and farts and buzzing vibrations. And there I lay amid it all wide awake and wondering how I allowed myself to get into this position in the first place.

I started to laugh. I’m not sure that it was a laugh of amusement; there was a distinct maniacal tone to the barking guffaws that cracked like lightning bolts from my throat. Petunia fled off my chest. Simon sat up, looked at me for a moment with that quizzical expression dogs get when they don’t understand what you’re saying, then moved down to the foot of the bed and promptly fell back to sleep. Schnoofy raised his head and growled at me as if to say that I was annoying him, which only made me laugh harder.

I was finally able to sit up, however, and with tears rolling down my cheeks from laughing so hard, I fanned my flaming face with a book until, at last, I ran out of insane mirth and my smouldering phizog finally cooled enough to let me lay back down and try to get some sleep. The last time I looked at the clock it was 6:10 a.m. When next my eyes opened, it was 8:20 a.m. and I felt anything but rested. The Schnoof was laying with his head on my pillow. Simon was curled up behind my knees. Petunia was in a ball at the bottom of the bed. I was somewhere south of the feather pillow and at an angle dissecting the bed from top left to bottom right. The other pillow was on the floor and a sharp crick in my neck bade me good morning.

It’s going to be a long day.