A Love Story

This chilly, damp morning we indulged ourselves with breakfast in bed. Although we awoke at 6 AM, two hours later we were still jockeying for the covers, so I launched a counter-offensive by getting out of bed, making a pot of coffee and plotting my overthrow.

I sauntered back into the bedroom, coffee cup in one hand and ziplock bag of oatmeal cranberry cookies in the other. Her back was to me and she now occupied all but a corner of the bed, measuring to my naked eye to be about 12 inches square. I gently eased into the space, drank a sip of coffee and opened the bag of cookies. As I began to make crunchy, yummy noises, she raised her head and looked over her shoulder at me in a Marlene Dietrich half-lidded kind of haze. I thought how fetching she looked at that moment and considered putting down the coffee and cookies for a brief interlude, but I was on a mission...to regain my share of the bed!

The cookies did the trick, she rolled over in great haste, sat up, looked at the bag, looked at me, looked at the bag, all with an expression of disbelief. Cookies? For Breakfast? In Bed? Did I intend to share?

Seizing the moment, I slid closer to her with cookie in hand, our eyes met and I took a bite. She shifted over to give me more room. I took another bite. She shifted a little more. I leaned close to her face, feeding her the last bite of cookie as I stretched out in blissful comfort in our bed.

Two bites for me, one bite for her. Two bites for me, one bite for her. In between bites, she looked at me soulfully, drool oozing from the corner of her mouth onto the silk duvet cover. I reached over and gave her a scratch behind the ear in the spot that makes her lip curl like Elvis.

And that my friends, is how you reclaim the bed from the family dog.