I try to sneak in my bed for a power nap that I have set 15 minutes aside for. I slowly maneuver my way under my comfy blankets, trying not to make too much noise. If I do, she’ll notice. I’m tucked under, feeling safe and sound. My eyelids begin to sink down to shut. Then I hear the pitter patter that starts to pick up as it rounds the corner. I look up and a black flash lunges over the bed frame colliding with my upper body. It’s Kahlua, my adolescent dog that craves attention and will do anything in her power to receive it from me. Lately, violence has been her strategy.
My body is thrown back and I am pinned beneath her. She is balanced on me and neither of us dare to make a move. I move nothing except my right arm. I slowly extend it outwards to try and grab the edge of the bed to help my planned escape. Instantly, she catches on. Her head moves towards my arm and she dares me with her body ready to pounce. I’m all out of ideas. All I wanted was to rest my tired eyes for 15 minutes, but I have a mad dog holding me hostage in my own home!
“Where’s your Sharky?” I ask in a pathetic cooing voice. “Shaaaaarky after Daaaaarky.” I say as I start to tease her into her favorite song. Yes, my dog knows what this means and it’s become a nightly routine. I begin to sing the jingle that I created one night on the spot while playing with Kahlua and she instantly leaps off of the bed. Two seconds later she jumps back onto the bed. This time with Sharky, minus his head, in her mouth. She’s ready. She’s been ready.
I feel defeated and worn out.
Now, as I write this, she is worn out as well. She tucks herself in a little ball and sleeps on the cool chair. Who owns who is what I’m wondering…