A California King bed is 6 feet by 7 feet, depending on the brand and the topping. That is 42 square feet of space. 42 is the answer to the ultimate question to life, the universe and everything. My expectations were not unreasonable.
Dante can now jump onto all beds upstairs. It's a frog leap with a gazelle tuck. He lands like a cat. The first few days he frogazelled onto 42 square feet, he wouldn't jump off. Smart move frogazelle with hip dysplasia. Day three he jumped down. A downhill skier tucked, landing his orthopedic bed on the floor luge riding into the bedroom wall. Physics explains the energy disbursement via angle delivery, orthopedic mattress depth, and slide divided by friction against the wood floor. He is as shocked as I am, sitting on his bed, now halfway bent up the wall.
Nothing about this is new. Angus did the same Olympic moves at 6 months of age.
Last night Dante jumped into bed with Angus. Angus sat straight up and looked down at him. Dante laid down flat, head on paws and did the Dante Doggy Eye of Helpless Pup Who Needs Saving. I stand looking at both doing math inside 42 that will make this work.
Angus looks at me. He looks down at Dante. "Dude. What are you doing?"
"SHHH, shut up. I'm working here." Dante breaths through his jowls to expose just how close to dead he is if he can't sleep on the bed now.
"Dude. This is my thing." Angus moves forward, to sit straighter in case I haven't noticed him.
"Technically it's mom's thing, and she let you up here. Technically, I'm like you and I get up here, too." Dante yips slightly, stretches further out grabbing the edge of the bed and falls to his side.
"KNOCK THAT OFF!"
"Why? Because you can't do it? You can't deliver the goods like me? Look at her, she's going to cave any minute."
Angus looks at me, falls into a tight puppy circle of hound hopelessness needing assistance as well. Laying on top of Dante's head subtracted from the full affect though.
"Get off my head."
"I'm not on your head. I'm against your face. Different thing entirely."
"You're blocking my vulnerable pup expressions." Dante whines and jowl breaths under Angus mass.
"Well, that's awkward for you trying to deliver the goods." Angus rolls over to expose his belly, stretching his front legs like a centerfold.
"Ge'ff my HEADth! NOT FAIR! You cin't centerfold roll ontop ophf me!" Dante dog paddles searching for traction. There is none. Dog paddle is a human term for a style of swimming utilized for ease and duration in deep water. Neither of which Dante finds.
There's no not rubbing a hound belly. I help Dante extract his face from under Angus' shoulder while stroking the softest fur on this dog, just below his rib cage. I pull Dante, roll Angus, push Dante, scoot Angus and find space in the center that leaves Angus with his original space he always gets, sacrificing 1/3 of my space for Dante.
I lay down on top of blankets and sheets I can't pull out from under dogs. I exhale to recover from dog arrangements. Butters and Snickers and I say good nights. Kirby tells me he's a good boy. Felix says, "Stop."
A dog's sleep starts where a parrot's nerves end.
I wake in pitch dark to find a red hot coal, tightly wound snoring, between my arms and chest. Even a sMothering wash rag has limits. I scoop up the red hot coal. Lay him perfectly centered on his orthopedic bed. I unfold his legs and head to create a relaxed red hot coal glob of puppy blubber in the shape of a dog sleeping. He snores.
I climb back up into my 11 square feet of the 42, finding my sheet, my blanket and those 11 square feet heated to volcano temperatures. Angus rolls over to look at me, his eyes glint opened wide reflecting the street light sneaking in between blinds from outside.
"I told you. I told you first day this was going to be a thing."