It just occurred to me that though I often mention walking my dog in my nightly star-hunts, I haven’t mentioned just how much of a blessing my bear-dog is himself. Ozzie is, and I do not say this lightly, the best dog in the world. Case in point? He doesn’t rest from his job as protector, even when I’m sleeping. From pup ^ to protector
I have always had very vivid dreams, and I frequently have nightmares and sometimes night terrors. It has not been uncommon, especially in the past few years, for me to wake myself up by crying or screaming. Once up, I generally have a hard time calming down enough to get back to sleep.
This morning, around 2:30, I had one of those nightmares. I don’t remember the content– only that I woke up drenched in sweat and hoarse, with a very wet dog nose nudging my eyeballs. He had jumped on top of me on the bed, his body stretched over mine, and was whining continuously and trying to open my eyes with his nose… if I hadn’t been so panicked, I would have had to laugh.
This is a new phenomenon for me, since when we lived in Ohio Oz slept in a kennel. In my tiny apartment he usually chooses to sleep a few feet away from me on the bathroom floor, so he can be ready for walks as soon as I start to stir in the morning. Apparently, from his new post, he’s also ready to serve as Mr. Sandman when the necessity arises. It didn’t take long for me to get back to sleep this morning, and I attribute that to my protective beast. I’m so glad I convinced Michael Darling that we NEEDED a puppy three years ago, and that we found Oswald. I don’t know what I’d do without him.
P.S.: Yes, my dog does have about a million silly names– what of it? (Ozzie, Wozzie, Woz, Oswald, Wald, Bear Dog, The Wiz… I could go on, but you get the point. An Oz by any other name would smell as sweet.)