A New Habit

When we first got Ray, when he was only a year old and full of beans, Ray was kept in the kitchen at night. Gregg would let him out before going to bed and when Ray would come back in, he would plop down on his bed, curl into his tight little ball, and fall instantly asleep. I felt bad about keeping him away from the rest of the family, but Ray didn't mind. He didn't know any of us or feel any burning desire to sleep with us.

Then we had the kitchen renovation (or the large, undisclosed amount of money dog door project, as I like to call it). We had to move Ray's bed somewhere, so we put him in front of the fireplace. Ray adapted to his new spot pretty quickly, especially because there was no 'kitchen,' to return to, just a gaping hole where a cozy room used to be. And as before, Ray would come in, find his bed, curl into his usual tiny mass, and fall asleep.

When the renovation was finished, we left Ray's bed in front of the fireplace. It was easier to not have to move it every night, and he had completely adapted to his new spot. So Ray's bed remained where it was.

Then Gregg got cancer, and I became the dog taker-outer at night. Ray would come back inside, and for while, would go back to his bed in front of the fireplace. At some point during the harrowing months of Gregg's treatment, Ray started following me up the stairs to bed. He and I made a pact that he could sleep upstairs, but it would have to be on the futon outside the bedroom. To make sure that Ray abided by this agreement, I engaged the hook-and-eye on the bedroom door, a tactic that Hugo was highly in favor of.

But at some point in the past few months, I'd stopped using the hook-and-eye on the bedroom door. It seemed kind of pointless since Ray was obviously abiding by the long-ago agreed-upon futon-pact. 

However, at the beginning of this week, after returning from a 4:00 a.m. perambulation around the backyard (it's a howling mistake to let him out by himself - he needs to be taken out on a leash), Ray launched himself onto the bed and curled up against Gregg while I was in the bathroom changing back into my jammies. Since it is impossible for me to move a dog of his size off of the bed without a huge struggle and a lot of grunting (thus waking my sleeping beauty of a husband), I let sleeping dogs lie. 

It turns out that this has been a rather bad error of judgement on my part. For the last three mornings, right around 4:00 a.m., Ray has snuck into the bedroom and launched himself up to sleep with Gregg. For a large dog, he is amazingly stealthy and light on his feet. He can land all four feet on the bed simultaneously without any cumbersome clambering. One second he is on the floor, the next he is on the bed. It's like a magic trick. 

"I woke up this morning being spooned by a dog," said my lovely husband yesterday morning.

He was surprisingly calm about the whole thing. Thinking that maybe this was a hint, last night when I went to bed, I re-engaged the hook-and-eye. This morning, at 4:00 a.m., Ray came to the bedroom door and found he couldn't get in. He scratched. I ignored. He scratched again. I ignored. He whined. I ignored. Gregg got up, unhooked the hook and let Ray in. 

Apparently, he has no objection to being spooned by a dog. Hugo, however, is appalled.