We once had a dog bed that was largely ignored. I don't remember how or when it appeared in our house. It may have been Foley's. When my parents went out, they began putting the bed in my crate. I scratched on it to prepare it for snuggles, ripped it and caused little snowflakes of stuffing to settle on the floor by my crate.
A few days later my parents bought a new bed, the first since Foley passed. When she was with us everything that came into the house was hers. If she didn’t want a new toy, then I could have it, and even then, she would steal it, bring it to Mommy’s chair, and sit on it then watch me look for it.
But this bed was for me. It was tiny, perfect for my little body to curl up in, but too small for River. It was the first item to come in the house that I could claim as my own. When my parents went out the bed was placed in my crate, and then I was, and nobody but me could enjoy my comfortable, warm friend.
When my parents got home, they let me and the bed out of the crate so I could lie on it whenever I wanted. I preferred to be next to my parents and look at the bed. It was as comfortable on the eyes as it was on the butt.
An hour before bed I get a small plate of food and River gets a marrow bone with turkey stuffed at the top and some kibble inside. With her small mouth River has trouble holding the bone. She quickly found out if she jumped on the couch, and used the back, or the sides to help her hold the bone she could complete the mission faster.
Quickly, River realized if she got in my bed, and pressed the bone against the side of it, she could gain leverage to get the treats. The problem is it causes a lot of slobber. Mommy has coverings that match the fabric on the couch to keep it slobber-proof. But my bed is unprotected.
When she is done, I go to my precious bed, all covered with River slobber. Lying down on it is like stretching out on the wet part of the bed. It wasn’t just wet; it was sticky. I told River to stay out of it, and she said that she had to use the bed to help her get food and food is essential than a bed. I took the case to our sister Judge Angel Foley. She ruled on River’s side. Bed trumps food.
But I still hate having her getting drool all over my bed. I have tried to sit in it, and bone block her, but she just bulls her way in with her treat and slobbers until I almost drown. My mommy has washed the bed but it needs to be done every day to get the spit off, and that takes away the snuggle.
My mommy does understand how gross my bed is because of River. Mommy puts a towel on it when she puts it in my crate, so I don’t get drool on me. I miss the soft bed fabric which is stiff from River’s discharge. The towel should be on when River is slobbering over it, but she just paws it aside. She has no respect.
I love my sister, but she and her fat drooling face are why we can’t have nice things.
Dear Santa, please bring River a new bed for Christmas so mine can be washed once and put in my crate, so it is just mine.
The crate is the one place I know River will never go.