Wednesday, 19 March 2008
Neko has found her happy place, and unfortunately it's on the thick pile carpet in C's study where I work most of the day.
Neko has been expressly forbidden from going into any of the carpeted rooms here in Blair's Grove, but somehow she's managed to inch and sneak her way into the study. At first, C would catch her in here and glare at both of us balefully. I'd shoo Neko out, pretending she'd just arrived or that I hadn't noticed her there. But truthfully, there's something soothing about having a dog stretched out beside you while you work or write or play scrabble. C's rarely here in the daytime so I figured it would be Neko's little secret.
Once C caught on to our attempted deviousness, he brought in a rug for Neko to lie on. Sadly, Neko is not interested in parking her carcass on a dollar store rug. She prefers the carpet, the nice, grey, squishy, warm, expensive carpet. The one that will require severe steam cleaning eventually to remove all traces of her doggyness.
So, through sheer canine determination, Neko is now free to spend her slothful days in the study, head stuffed under the bed, body splayed out in varying degrees of weirdness across the carpet. And for most of the day, she seems content. But approximately 5 or 6 times a day, she has a bad dream. I've never known a dog that has such terrible dreams as she does. Her whole body twitches, her legs paddle and thrash spastically, her lips curl and her ears go backwards. She moans, woofs, yelps, growls, cries and basically makes me feel miserable until I pet her and say a few soothing words to snap her out of it. I can only assume these dreams are in fact nightmares, because the look on her face when I wake her up is one of dazed relief.
One has to wonder what it is dogs actually dream about. I can't imagine that dreams about rawhide or rotten groundhogs or even racoon encounters would cause her this much sleep strife. I guess I'll never know.