This morning, after days of trying every possible trick in the bag to get my wireless router to start talking to my cable modem again, it came to me in a flash, like a revelation from heaven: Delete the entire network, reset everything, and build a new one from scratch. Lo, it will work.
Lo, it didn’t work.
But then, just as I’d figured on spending the next month stealing a free wireless signal from my next-door neighbor, AND using the enforced down time to do something completely different, like start noodling around with fiction again, I opened the laptop and everything is working smoothly again, and I have no idea what happened, but it happened, and lo.
So much for my fiction career.
But what the hell — why not start a discussion on this story, which I read over the weekend, about people who sleep with their dogs. I mean, in the bed with their dogs. According to this story, 40 percent of American dogs share a human’s bed.
As part of our family’s long-running comedy routine, in which one of us will speak the thoughts of our canine member, we have an unending debate over the dog sleeping with us. I’ve never objected to a dog in bed, but Alan is appalled by the very idea. For years, Spriggy slept in his own bed next to ours, and after Alan’s allergies reached a crisis he was banished from the bedroom entirely. (He now sleeps within sight, out in the hallway.)
I’m always intrigued at the different permutations of human-animal sleep my friends confess to. I’ve known women who slept with huge Labrador retrievers or German shepherds next to them. Vince’s Daisy sleeps under the covers. I dog-sat a Springer who insisted on curling up in the curve of my knees, and patiently readjusted himself after every shift in my own position. It was really sweet and cozy.
Do you sleep with your pet? Why or why not?