More Tales of Oliver
Yesterday we did a minor re-arrangement of my room.
Normally, at the foot of the bed, there is a large steamer trunk. It happens to be the exact same height as the matress, so the dogs like to use it as an extension of the bed. Next to the bed, about two feet away, is where Oliver's crate normally lives. The crate is essentially a giant steel cage, left over from my parents' greyhound days. It's huge - greyhounds are deceptively big dogs.
The crate's position is left over from when Oliver was little - in the lonely night, he could see me and I him. I wanted him to sleep on the bed when back then, but he kept falling off - and his crate needed to be a comfortable, secure place for him, so it was better and safer that he sleep there. Indeed, without prompting, these days he will go in there at night to sleep. I guess he's still worried about falling off the bed - he won't spend the entire night on it with me and Sandy.
The minor room re-arrangement, among other things, involved swapping Oliver's crate for the trunk. The crate is at the foot of the bed now, and the trunk is acting as an over-large night table. It makes the dynamic of the room better, and I'm less likely to break my toes in the night on the trunk than on the crate.
So last night, in the dark, I felt Oliver get off the bed as usual. I heard him walking across the floor, and then a soft "bonk" as he hit his head on the trunk.
I died laughing. I'm a bad daddy.
I tried to make up for it by leaving the window shade open for the rest of the night, so the light from the street would help him find his way. The poor woogums.
Normally, at the foot of the bed, there is a large steamer trunk. It happens to be the exact same height as the matress, so the dogs like to use it as an extension of the bed. Next to the bed, about two feet away, is where Oliver's crate normally lives. The crate is essentially a giant steel cage, left over from my parents' greyhound days. It's huge - greyhounds are deceptively big dogs.
The crate's position is left over from when Oliver was little - in the lonely night, he could see me and I him. I wanted him to sleep on the bed when back then, but he kept falling off - and his crate needed to be a comfortable, secure place for him, so it was better and safer that he sleep there. Indeed, without prompting, these days he will go in there at night to sleep. I guess he's still worried about falling off the bed - he won't spend the entire night on it with me and Sandy.
The minor room re-arrangement, among other things, involved swapping Oliver's crate for the trunk. The crate is at the foot of the bed now, and the trunk is acting as an over-large night table. It makes the dynamic of the room better, and I'm less likely to break my toes in the night on the trunk than on the crate.
So last night, in the dark, I felt Oliver get off the bed as usual. I heard him walking across the floor, and then a soft "bonk" as he hit his head on the trunk.
I died laughing. I'm a bad daddy.
I tried to make up for it by leaving the window shade open for the rest of the night, so the light from the street would help him find his way. The poor woogums.