You might think after reading yesterday’s post that Pablo actually sleeps in his dog bed full time. Not so. The dog bed is where he parks his butt during the daytime hours. At night either K or I pick him up and bring him upstairs (Pablo does not climb stairs) and deposit him on the bed. He makes a beeline for the biggest, softest pillow and curls up until one of us dislodges him from his throne. Then he heads to the foot of the bed, plops down with a disgruntled sigh, and is soon asleep.
Sleeping with one’s pet is not unique, even though a recent CDC study warns of the dangers it could bring. Cat scratch fever, meningitis, and even bubonic plague are all possibilities. The two California doctors who conducted the study admit that the risks are rare. Still they advise against allowing pets in the bedroom.
Here’s my two cents. I believe in adhering to the many reasonable safety precautions that exist– such as buckling my seatbelt every time I’m in the car. But I’m willing to risk the extremely rare chance I might get bubonic plague in favor of cuddling with my dog.
Plenty of people apparently feel the same. In an article in The New York Times pet owners confess to the comfort of sleeping with their dogs and cats. When my partner of twenty years died suddenly eight years ago, Pablo’s warm furry body next to mine helped me make it through many a long, lonely night.
One woman from Woodstock does seem to take it a bit far. She sleeps with two cats, three dogs, and a potbellied pig. Hey, whatever floats your boat, I say. The NYT article points out that the woman finds it hard to get a date. I wonder why.