Saturday, 18 February 2012

Sleeping and a dog named Bruce don’t mix


As Bruce has aged, (he’s 14 years old now) I made the mistake of bringing Bruce and his bed into my bedroom at night.  Luckily, gone are the days that he can jump up on my bed with his arthritic knees… do dogs have knees? When he had, very occasionally, slept on the bed, he would lie so close to me that I would be trapped in the smallest sliver on the edge of the bed, subjected to him snoring in my ear and keeping me at furnace temperature with his thick coat.  

Nowadays, Bruce has found new and more irritating ways to keeps me awake. For a relatively small dog (that is a Jack Russell cross Chihuahua) he has a snore that, in volume, is close to a Great Dane and, in complexity, a virtual symphony of snorts, groans, wheezes and very occasional long breathless pauses. So loud is his snoring that one day when I was on the phone with a friend and Bruce was snoring in the background, my friend enquired what sort of machinery was operating in the room. ‘Not machinery, just a small noisy dog’, was my reply.

There are also the times when Bruce takes the opportunity at bedtime to do some major grooming via licking and biting that reaches OCD proportions. After ten or fifteen minutes of continuously licking of himself and the interior of his bed I am at screaming point and the likelihood of a relaxing drifting into sleep is destroyed. Should I wake during the night and switch on the light, Bruce decides that more licking is required and my loud and persistent requests for cessation of his licking are met with hurt looks and sly licks until he finally falls back to sleep.

Then there are the middle of the night sessions when Bruce takes a meander around the house, opening the door to the bedroom and strolling along the hallway with his clicky-clacky toenails on tiles and then rubbing his face in the carpet with accompanying snorting and snuffling noises a kin to an elephant seal attracting a mate. Having woken me up with all the racket, his excursion has the double sleep-disturbing effect of opening the bedroom door to the morning light falling directly on my face at the crack of dawn.

The latest in his armoury of ways to keep me awake is one of the most unpleasant. Fortunately it is not all that common but it is particularly difficult to resolve. Most recently, I heard a faint noise that woke me. I lay in the dark trying to determine if it was a creak in the floorboards or a shifting on the house on its foundations or a possums toe nails on the roof tiles. Having heightened my sense of hearing, the other senses were awake too. And it was the sense of smell that was assaulted by the foulest stench that seemed to emanate from a hairy and very guilty dog in the corner. Fans, blasting, windows and doors opening did nothing to dilute the potency of the odour. I had to adjourn to another room until it was safe to return to my room…

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