The general rule around here is “No dogs in bed unless we ask you up”, but occasional one of them will get the idea they are Entitled and hop in uninvited. Normally, we figure it’s because they “need” to be close to us (tummyache? nightmares?) so we let it slide, and they curl up, charmingly, at our feet and sleep peacefully.
Last night after being continually restless, it was Matty, all 60 pounds, that hopped up and nestled right between us, in a very NOT charming manner. I was asleep on my stomach, and he used my shoulder as a pillow, nuzzling his gigantic wet nose against my ear and breathing heavily, making a slurpy-snoring noise.
I finally managed to shrug him off, and then he stretched out on his side. I got the nice warm back, which was fine, although crowded, but Rob got poked with dog feet; two in the throat, two in the kidneys, and he got deblanketed and spent the night cold and constantly prodded awake until 4:30 when he finally managed to banish Matty to the foot of the bed. Poor Rob.