"Move over. You are in my spot."
You would think that, by now, after my having commanded him to do this every single night of his nine years of life, Jimmy wouldn't have to be told this. You might think that he would just get in the bed and go to his spot, not mine. But no. Of course, my command comes with a nice belly rub, a belly smooch, and both of those accompanied by my loving voice. Perhaps he likes getting in my spot first?
We all, all four of us, sleep in the exact same spots every night. Jimmy on my right under the covers (dachshunds do this apparently), Freddy, the relative newcomer, to my left and snuggled up in the crook of my knees while I lay on my right side snuggling Jimmy, and Patches, the ruler of us all, at my feet and on my robe. If I have to get up in the night, I also have to walk clear across my room to my closet to get my spare robe when I rise. I don't want to disturb Queen Patches. She doesn't take well to being disturbed in her sleep.
I have often felt blessed to have these creatures in my home, but never more than now. Without them, I would be nearly alone all day. What is happening to the little old ladies who are now stuck in their homes, with no visitors, pets or any source of love and affection at all?
This is my entry to 
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