White Dog whimpered in the night and I was instantly awake. "What now?" I wondered as I quickly recognized this was not her warning us about Quinn or some other issue about the White Dog Army. "Come on, up," I called as I realized she was not on the bed and I waited for her to at least paw the edge of the bed. She whimpered again in personal distress.
I swung my legs down and sat up. Even without my glasses I could see the problem. White Dog had been sleeping under the chair in the bedroom. It is a place she has gone to since she was a puppy if the bed gets too hot or if we are too restless. Now she was trapped.
Oso, our interior designer wannabe, has been rearranging the dog beds in the office for weeks now (believe me a movie is in the making). He particularly likes to drag the white rectangular bed from its place in the closet into the middle of the room or the doorway where his view is better and then there he rests...of course, he does not return it to its proper position when he leaves the room. The rest of the WDA hates this disruption to the space but seemingly, Oso is oblivious to their opinions.
A few nights ago, OAWD began attempting to drag his bed (which is similar) in our bedroom out of the corner space where it has lived since he arrived. Steve put it back where it belonged and anchored the side edge with the big TV watching pillows. The added weight did nothing to deter our littlest one from pulling with all of his 15lb. might and getting the bed to move about two feet. This disturbed YoYoMa who sleeps at the end of the bed so HE shifted to squeeze into the narrow passage between the wall and the bed where Steve steps to get in and out. Additionally, it posed a tripping hazard for our wobbly boy, Quinn.
So the next night, Steve placed the back leg of the chair on the back of the bed. We heard Oso tugging and attempting to correct this insult to to room's feng shui but he was not strong enough to succeed. Problem solved, we thought.
When White Dog whimpered it was because she was trapped by Oso's bed and the slumbering Designer. No, he had not turned into a ducky jerky eating version of Popeye, his bedroom bed was still firmly in place. Our little thinker had pondered the problem and put on his Engineering cap.
He had dragged the OTHER bed from the office and placed it where he felt he needed it to be for a truly peaceful rest, which happened to be right smack dab in front of the chair!
I dragged the end of the bed against the dresser and toward the door a couple of feet; the slumbering genius never even awoke. Quinn was soundly sleeping in the bathroom and I knew he would not pace anymore and would sleep until we woke him for breakfast. There was plenty of room for Nuka and Puff to pass around him if the need arose.
"There you go, White Girl," I whispered to WD who was already halfway out from under the chair. "Are you OK?" She didn't take time to answer as she rushed through the dog door. When she returned she hopped up on the bed, looked over the edge at Oso on his imported bed, sighed heavily, then stretched out against my legs to sleep.