Whenever another relationship ended, I’d tell myself that at least I’d be getting back to my “single sleep.” It was something, as half a couple, I’d sorely missed and could now look forward to. There’s nothing like it. You know what I mean if you’re like me, a healthy sleeper not plagued by insomnia. If, undisturbed by another’s tossing and turning or snoring (or hey, oftentimes just breathing,) you fall asleep minutes after your head hits the pillow, not to awaken before your alarm sounds the start of a new day.
I’ve enjoyed eight blissful hours a night like this for several years now, but I’m sorry to say I think the party’s over. You see, my mom’s dog, Frankie, has been staying for sleepovers. Having recently moved out of my neighborhood, my mother and I are like divorced parents working out a schedule to share custody.

I’ve come to look forward to walks around my block with Frankie. We’ve met lots of other dogs and their owners, and we take in the sight and smell of the surf at least three days a week. Not wanting to give this up, I suggested he stay over every weekend. My mother was only too happy to get a break from the parenting, and immediately purchased a second dog crate for him to sleep in at my house.
Frankie’s a great sleeper, I’ll give him that. He doesn’t bark. He doesn’t whine. He doesn’t have accidents. He just sleeps. His first night there, I crawled into bed shortly after putting him in his crate in the corner of my room. My cat, Bella, joined me. Ten minutes later, I heard it. A soft snore coming from the crate. Another ten minutes went by and on the other side of me, a second snore, only slightly higher in pitch and with a little nose whistle. I listened to their harmony. Their little lungs must be exactly the same size because one’s inhale came two beats after the other’s exhale. They were perfectly synchronized. An hour later, they were still at it. My attempts to nudge Bella quiet had failed. And Frankie only stopped briefly, when after one loud, human-sounding snort, he woke himself up. I wonder if there’s such a thing as Dog Sleep Apnea.
Frankie’s snoring, I understood. He’s a Pekingese and, as such, has a rather
pushed in face. But, Bella’s snores surprised me. Not only does she have an aristocratic nose, like a Siamese, but I’d never heard her before. Maybe, I’d never been awake for it, or maybe, she was particularly exhausted after being on high alert all day with a dog in the house. Either way, six hours is my new average on the weekends.
The going rate for companionship.
May 8, 2011 at 8:22 pm
Ha ha–my cat snores, too! And you can tell when she’s dreaming; she’s almost like a person, twitching and clawing at the air.
May 9, 2011 at 5:33 am
A couple of days ago Frankie was wagging his tail in his sleep! Glad it was a good dream!
May 9, 2011 at 7:48 am
My daughter’s dog, Mila, runs in her sleep and beats her tail on the floor, chasing cats and squirrels in dreamland, I suppose.
May 9, 2011 at 8:22 am
Wow, can I relate! We just succumbed to putting our 12-year-old Yorkie, who is more the size of Shih Tzu, out of our bedroom at night. His crate is now in our living room for lack of sleep. My husband said he couldn’t take it anymore. We’ve never been one of those parents who have allowed our children to sleep in our room with us for that very reason, so the dog wasn’t getting any preferential treatment. 🙂
May 9, 2011 at 11:31 am
What about earplugs?
May 26, 2011 at 10:25 pm
BANISHED! … An Update
I tried earplugs the other night. Frankie’s snores found their way past the yellow foam wedged in each ear canal. I actually found myself curled up in the fetal position on the living room love seat, a former spot of escape from the nighttime disturbances of other males in my life.
Though this time, getting there was more of a pain. Since there are no lights I can reach from the sofa, I had to make my way in the dark, rolling over squeaky toys. I caught a couple hours of sleep before I was awakened by the crunching of kitty kibble in stereo, the kitchen just feet away.
A friend saw all the sofa cushions on the floor and laughed. She suggested that instead of giving up my bed, we move the dog crate. Eureka! I miss him, but I’m back to eight hours.
May 27, 2011 at 11:39 am
Why is it the simplest of solutions are so hard to come by?
A certain stealth hit and run pee-er may have just pee-ed on my last nerve. Any suggestions?
May 31, 2011 at 1:43 pm
If you were in Rome you could open the windows at night and drown them both out!