Since the day I brought Penny home, she’s changed my life. She’s smart, social, happy and playful, full of life and tenderness. Her flaws number zero.
Oh wait, I lied: Penny is the WORST BED PAL EVER.
For the past couple weeks, I’ve woken up with her furry little back in my face, or her feet pushing into my stomach as she stretches out. I’m not even lucky enough to toss or turn overnight anymore – with Penny on my left and Darcy on my right, both on top of the covers, they pin me in so tightly I can’t even move.
I guess I brought it on myself. When Penny was a puppy, and we’d play so long that she’d stop, ball up on the floor and be asleep in seconds, I’d lay her on me because she was warm, snuggly and she loved my heartbeat. Which was cute and all when she was 6 pounds. Now she’s 15 pounds and still prefers to curl up somewhere between my neck and stomach every night.
And when I try to shift her at 4 a.m. so I can get some freaking sleep? She turns on the dramatics and offers up an “Uuunnnnrrrhhhh!”
And what’s she doing on the bed, you ask? Yeah, she lasted exactly one night in her cage when Chris and I got her three years ago. She sat up and whimpered most of the night, and we decided we could afford her some space.
I … sort of regret that now.
So now I’m yawning at work (which, I have to say, is crazy, as copy editors work night shifts and therefore should never be tired when sleeping till noon is always an option).
And I have no idea what to do. Kicking the dogs off the bed is not an option. Penny’s a stubborn, stubborn girl (you should see us on walks when I want to go one direction and Penny … doesn’t).
Chris, though, might have the answer: California king.