Goodnight, Sweet Dreams

Pettigrew has a firm sense of bedtime. Bedtime is, perforce, different than nap time.

Nap time is a variable entity. Nap time happens whenever, wherever. It’s fluid. 

Nap time.

The need for a nap could strike after breakfast, in the early afternoon, or the late afternoon. A delightful nap can be enjoyed under the dining room table, on the sofa, by the front door, or stretched out at the bottom of the stairs.

Bedtime is not flexible. 

When the stars align, bedtime happens after a specific sequence of events: first dinner, then a rawhide snack, followed by a short walk, and, finally, a treat (Pettigrew’s version of a nightcap) upon returning home.

Sometime Pettigrew explores whether there is wiggle room. Can it be bedtime before the evening walk if the evening walk is unreasonably late? Is it OK in these situations to settle in for the night and then act befuddled when someone approaches with a leash?

How do I know it is bedtime? Because Pettigrew has started coming upstairs to our room to sleep, at least for the first half of the night. He does not come upstairs for a nap. Only at night.

I would’ve thought it was for companionship, but that does not appear to be the case.

There are many nights when I am working downstairs and I hear Pettigrew click clacking his way up the uncarpeted stairs, along the hall, and in to our room.

Gradual transition from carpet to fluffy towel.

He usually waits until my husband has gone upstairs, but not always. Sometimes he patiently waits in our room, by himself, until we too, realize that it is time for bed.

There is a nice soft, fluffy towel on the floor for him. The towel gets folded up and put away during the day. Apparently, I am the only one who puts out the towel.

In solidarity with the guy in the room, Pettigrew does not immediately transition from the carpet to the towel when I come up and make his bed. He stays prone on the floor, as if he is perfectly comfortable. 

At some point, he migrates to the towel. He likes it, he just doesn’t want to admit it.

My husband believes Pettigrew likes to sleep in our room because when I come up, I join him on the floor for a good rub down. 

It makes for a later night for me, but the important things in life are always worth a sacrifice. 

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