The Horseman and I used to cuddle in bed, but that came to an abrupt halt about two years ago, when he brought that bitch home! I hear him talking to her ALL the time. "Daddy's baby girl. Daddy loves the baby girl." I named her "Roxy", but I occasionally call her "Obnoxy". She's a boxer-mix, who sleeps smack-dab in between us. No cuddlin' goin' on in this house!
Like many dog owners, we have to spell certain words rather than speak them aloud. C-A-M-P-I-N-G. If you say it you'd better mean it! Uttering that word invokes a big hell raising session. Roxy loves camping and being out on the trail when we go riding. Lucky for The Horseman he brought home a true horse-dog.
The hooking-up of the horse trailer is another "hell raising" experience. The last time Rebel had to go to the vet, I drove in from work, hooked the trailer up and pulled around in to the driveway before letting Roxy out of the house. Oh, Boy! Jump! Jump! Jump! Bark! Bark! Bark! I load Rebel on the trailer. More jumping! More barking! (here's where it's a good thing when dogs understand some words) I said, "Roxy, he's going to the vet." She quietly went back into the house. Decidedly, Dr. Levine was not someone she wanted to see that day.
Back to our sleeping arrangement. The Horseman uses a breathing machine at night. The nose-piece expels air, causing a cool breeze. The bitch doesn't like a breeze in her face, but she still insists on sleeping in the middle. Being the intelligent creature she is, her remedy is to lay with her head down by our knees. Do you see where this is going? Yup! The dogs rear is in between our pillows!
As a footnote: The statement I made, about no cuddlin' goin' on, is not entirely true. Inevitably, at some point during the night, one of us ends up snuggled to the dog's ass!
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