There's a Dog in my Bed

At 3:30 or so one morning a few weeks ago, I woke up to find my husband putting a damp bundle of fur in bed with me. He'd gone out on a call for Aging and Disability Services, and ended up offering our services to dog-sit for a homeless client who needed medical treatment.

She was a pomeranian, very sweet and well behaved, and we quickly fell in love with her. The owner left treatment and vanished from the radar screen, and after several weeks had gone by we began to think maybe we were going to become permanent pom owners -- a prospect which we found quite pleasing.

But then came the fateful call... the owner had found a place to live and was able to care for the dog again, and wanted her back. I was very sad. I was much sadder than I had expected (or planned!) to be. I had gotten real used to having a dog in our bed, it was kind of nice, like having a fluffy stuffed animal to sleep with, only warmer (and lickier).

My husband, however, being the big softie that he is, fixed my problems in short order. Naiya (see photo) is 10 weeks old and has lived with us for a week now. She is doing very well at potty training, and is learning to sit. She goes to school with me every day, and everywhere else too, because when she grows up she's going to be a therapy dog so she needs to meet lots of people and be comfortable in lots of places.

Having a pom is a lot different from having a great Dane. She eats a lot less, for instance, and when she pees on the carpet you don't need a bucket to clean it up. And having her on your lap is not nearly as painful!