It occurs to me that if I am truly becoming more my dog, what does that say about who I was before? My mind spins!

October 26, 2017 3:10 pm

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Chapter 20: When Day is Done…


A word of caution: For those with delicate sensibilities, you may want to skip this as it deals with sleeping accommodations for multiple species in the same bed.


Yes, Barbara and my bed is a ménage a menagerie. Barbara and I sleep close to each side of the queen-sized bed while Winifred and Mr. Winston sleep in the center back to back or head to tail. It is tight quarters for all concerned, though the “kids” don’t seem to mind. And I have gotten used to the fur ball curled against my chest as we spoon ourselves to sleep. Depending on her mood, Winifred curls up with her tail under my chin, or her snout. (Actually, I prefer the tail since no tongue come out of it for a midnight kiss.)

And for those inquiring minds, it is true, Winnie and I both sleep in the nude. Which I did not learn from her. Always felt that going to bed to rest my weary mind and body did not require dressing for the occasion. And no, I have never felt compelled to spend the rest of my waking hours au natural – though Winifred does make a strong case for it.

Writing the above makes me smile. Winifred makes me smile. A lot. At her, and myself for being so delighted by her. In fact, exploring the very notion of becoming more like my dog, has made me laugh more.  I am amazed how easily the littlest thing she does amuses me, perhaps far more than it should. But watching her, paying attention to how she lives her day, has taken me back to a younger time when I laughed a lot, at myself and the human comedy around me. A time when I had no problem making a fool of myself.

According to that Irish literary rogue, Oscar Wilde, “To get back one’s youth, one merely has to repeat one’s follies.

In my case, sharing Winifred’s follies is “youthening” me just fine! And if, on the way, I make a fool of myself… all the better!

So, now I lay me down to sleep… Listening to the happy snoring of Mr. Winston and Winifred, I sink into reverie of what was accomplished today. And my plans for tomorrow. Watching and listening to Winifred lost in easy slumber, I feel certain she has no such thoughts. It occurs to me that if I am truly becoming more my dog, what does that say about who I was before? And what I need to leave behind? My mind spins!

What actually constitutes a day well-lived?

Should I include how much of the day I spent rehashing the past, wondering why I did this instead of that? How much time spent in regret, anger or guilt? Does any of that contribute to a well-lived day?

In bed, surrounded by loved ones, I am at peace. With the wisdom of Winifred oozing into my semi-conscious brain, I close my eyes …

To sleep, perchance to dream…

 Good night.

                        Sweet dreams.

                                                   I love you.



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