The other night I couldn't get to sleep. The problem was that I was sharing the bed with a wife, two cats, and a dog. The only position left for me would have looked like the chalk outline at a murder scene. I decided that one of the mammals needed to be moved. I was groggy from sleep deprivation, but even in that debilitated state I knew the wrong answers were (in this orders): wife, cat 1, cat 2. A good night of sleep isn't worth a bite wound.
I figured moving the dog was my best chance of not regretting this plan. She's a 12-pound toy Australian Shepherd and always in a good mood. When she's sleepy you can mold her into any position you like, Gumby-style. My idea was to bring her up toward my chest, with her back to my stomach, spoon position. Then I could turn sideways, insert my special small knee pillow between my legs and be good to go.
It was totally dark so I was operating by touch. I reached down and pulled little Snickers up to my chest, adjusted my blankets and pillows, and started settling in for a luxurious snooze. I love it when a plan comes together like that.
Few things are more soothing than sleeping with a warm puppy. I decided to use the dog as sort of a little pillow for my snout. It felt wonderful to snuggle my nose in between her ear and her neck area. She was totally unconscious so she took any position I assigned. It was great, but perhaps one more adjustment would make it perfect. I decided to put one arm around her and slip my hand under her head, just to get extra comfy. But there was just one problem.
HER HEAD WAS MISSING!
I was panicked, feeling around in the dark for where she must have contorted her head to make it so far from where I knew it had to be. I slipped my hand under my pillow and felt around, nothing. I checked to see if I was accidentally lying on her head: negative. Her head just wasn't there. In my half-asleep state, I worried that a horrible accident had happened during the night, possibly involving a circular saw. I realize that sounds unlikely to you, but keep in mind that my own snoring doesn't wake me, and I did have a headless dog.
I'm sure many of you readers are ahead of me on this story. Eventually I realized her head was on the other side of her body, exactly where it belonged. I had been snuggling my face into my dog's ass.
So that's how my 2009 started. I'm really hoping it isn't some sort of omen.