Last night, once again, was of the somewhat
discomforted variety, regardless of a pre-emptive dose of amitriptyline and
tramadol. It was rather difficult to clamp down on the moans & cusses that seemingly
forced their way out of my mouth; my beloved responded by cuddling me tight
(until she was overwhelmed by sleep) but then, the cuddles were followed by a
gentle patter of feet, approaching the bed, as our beautiful hound came to add
further comfort, stretching his forepaws across my upper arms and his head across
my shoulder, and onto my neck as he lay along the edge of the bed.
You may well think that Piper, our beagle–podenco hybrid
hound, was very clever to hear, and respond quite swiftly to, my moans
upstairs, when his bed is in a room, behind a closed door, downstairs. Up until
a few short weeks ago he did indeed sleep downstairs, usually on a sofa in
preference to his quite de-luxe bed. Matters changed when Helen had a bad
coughing fit, at night, to which the solitary Piper responded by whining,
barking and finally banging against the living room door.
After this sustained barrage of sound we succumbed
to his whiles / concern and allowed him to run upstairs. That night he settled
himself on the duvet, creating his own cradle in a ridge between the recumbent
bodies of Helen and myself.
After a couple more evenings he had decided that he
needed to keep an eye on us, sneaking through the living room door in the time
it took to switch off a light. He soon decided that he didn’t like being alone
and commandeered the bedroom armchair, equipped with an old blanket and towel, as
his customary nocturnal roost.
Come morning, he pays a visit to our bed, as if to
check we’re alright and still there. If he outstays the welcome of his
inspection routine, he can generally be persuaded to go back into HIS chair!
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