In the long history of my overindulgence toward my dog baby, another chapter. I couldn't sleep last night, and used one of my best tricks, moving the pillow to the side so I'm lying at a sharp angle. For some reason that usually works. It also puts my pillow into what's usually the dog's territory, which leads her to conclude logically that it's now her pillow. So I spent last night curled around her, her head on both my pillow and my arm, my face in her neck fur. She's sixty pounds, by the way, not a Yorkie.
She gets away with everything. In the past year or two she lost confidence in her ability to jump on the bed, which means she won't do it unless I 'help,' by which I mean mostly just cheer her on and nowadays give her butt a little boost. There's a whole ritual to it. But she usually wants to lie on the floor for ten minutes before getting into bed, which means she wants me to go to bed, then get up to help her in, then go back to bed. And of course I do it.
