I lie on my bed, reading before I take a nap after a late lunch on Sunday. Fleegle keeps shifting positions to goober this part or that part of his body, shaking the whole bed as he does.
I look at him over the top of my book. “Fleegle, go lie down on your pillow and give your goobering a rest, please.”
As he gets up and moves to his pillow, Franny jumps up on the bed and plops down on top of my stomach. I look at her, my eyebrows raised, and give her a look that asks her what she thinks she’s doing lying on top of my stomach just after I ate lunch.
She lifts her head at me. “What? You said go to our pillows. That’s what I’m doing, getting on my pillow.”
“I’m your pillow.”
“Well, I’ve tried Fleegle, but as you’ve noticed he doesn’t stay put long enough to get a good nap in. You’re much better at that than he is. You stay put plenty long to get a good nap in. Sometimes your body even forgets to breathe and needs a gentle nose bump to remind it to.”
Fifty pounds of Labrador puppy on top of my belly just after cold pizza for lunch is too much. I shift my hips and she slides off of me onto the bed, leaving just her head using me as a pillow. She seems fine with that and I return to reading my book.
Moments later, she nudges my hand with her wet nose. “Pet me,” she says.
And I say, “Take a nap.”
“No, pet me.”
I ignore her. She nose bumps me again. “Pet me.”
I move my hand away.
She gets up and moves closer to my hand. “Pet me.”
I give in without thinking and pet her as I read. Then the whole bed moves as Fleegle gets up and eases his eighty-five pound butt on top of my stomach.
My eyebrows go up at him in a questioning look. “Fleegle, what are you doing?”
He glances at Franny, then back at me and wags his tail. “Pet me.”