I’m not ashamed to admit it - I like sleeping alone. Please know however, sleeping alone is very different than being alone. The young often get the two confused. Those who are older - rarely do.
I can’t say I’ve ever experienced the version of sleeping together that’s often portrayed in the movies: arms draped romantically around one another in a warm embrace of love and unity. No, I haven’t had that version. I have had the version wherein a great deal of nauseatingly loud snoring emenates from the other party. Thus my current desire to sleep alone.
Sitting in bed the other night, the night after my beloved setter passed away, I looked down at the base of my bed and stared at my white boxer who was curled tightly on her bed, on the floor. Where there use to be two dog beds, upon which two hounds were always tightly curled side by side, now sat only one. My boxer, Grace Ann, looked as lonely as I felt due to the absence of Stu.
Since that night, Grace has become my bed buddy. And for the most part we seem to be doing well enough together. It’s been a long time since I’ve woken misshapen from having contoured my body around a dog during the night. But this morning I woke: on my side, in the shape of a stiff letter S, with a large white boxer curled into the warm wall created by my bent legs.
And even now, while all that fills the sky is darkness, small stars and a crescent moon, this lonely white dog is sleeping soundly, curled in her blanket, on my bed. I am pleased that I can offer her this small piece of comfort. Truth be told, it comforts me to feel her there throughout the night and see her there while I fall asleep. I’m wiping less tears from her eyes as the days move by, yet I can tell she’s far from normal.
There is one downside to sharing my bed with Grace Ann; she truly dreads the threatening sounds of inclement weather. Whereas Stuart had the ability to sleep through a wind storm, such is not the case with this sweet white boxer. Instead when the rain smacks against the house, she resembles a claustrophobic, distraught soul trapped in an elevator. With a look of madness in her eye she paces in circles, breathes hard and smacks her heavily jowled mouth repeatedly. All four of which happened on my bed, with me in it, last night. She’s not careful about where she paces either. While in this state of panic she has, I’ve now witnessed first hand, no problem stepping on me, the TV remote and the books scattered on my bed.
If and when I ever stumble across someone that I will entrust my heart to, this person will be, at times, sharing a bed with a very large dog - with weather issues. Perhaps this fellow will have similar issues. As far as issues go, weather issues don't sound that bad. While the wind beats hard against the windows, this wonderful fellow can pace throughout the house with Grace Ann by his side.
For now however, its just the two of us. And like all bed buddies do, we are trying to find our rhythm together. Neither of us has recovered from the loss of my best friend and her companion. But with every day, we are moving further from the pain.
Sane
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