“Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz”

I am mostly used to having Olive sleep on the bed with me now. Mostly. If only she would stay parallel to me and not perpendicular. (And this from someone who got a ”D” in geometry in high school. Hated geometry, loved algebra. Go figure.) And she’s got such loooooonnnnnngggggg Supermodel legs that when she stretches out across the bed, she’s almost hanging off it. So, my sleeping area becomes truncated; I have only the top two-thirds of the bed to maneuver around. If I were a midget, it wouldn’t be a problem. I’m not tall by any measure, but I need more of the bed than Olive gives me. And I twist and turn a lot. And guess what? So does Olive. She gets up, twirls around, twirls around and plops back down. I try using my legs to guide her to one side of the bed and surprisingly, this usually works. I guess because body language speaks louder than words to dogs. Then she settles in, nudging up against me. I’d say I get the head about 25% of the time, usually it’s the ass. And while emotionally, it feels nice to have her close to me, physically, it’s like sleeping next to a concrete parking space bumper. This dog is 110% muscle. I’m surprised I don’t wake up with bruises. It would be pretty funny to go to the store with your dog to make sure you get the right size bed. “NOPE. THE QUEEN IS TOO SMALL. WE’LL TAKE THE KING SIZE.”