Two Dog Night

Two Dog Night

Last night was one of those bad white nights where you wake at two and worry. The kind of night where you’re haunted by worries that are just practical enough to be real, and which yet, you know you can do nothing about at two in the morning. Or three in the morning. Or four thirty, when you know you only have another hour until the alarm goes off. And of course, by the time the alarm goes off, you’re finally finding yourself slipping under the wire into real sleep. Except that now, you must get up.

The saving grace on nights like that is my Raymond. Somehow, he can tell when I’m upset, and stewing, and he comes in and hops up on the bed with me and my Owie. Owen sleeps up near the top of the bed, curled up not quite on the pillows, and on bad nights Ray will curl up at the foot of the bed. It’s almost enough, on those insomniac nights, that there are two sleeping creatures, who will flop a head over an ankle, or curl up in the crook of your knees. It’s almost enough, as you’re lying there worrying about loved ones, and job security, and debt, and mortgage payments, and all the other things that keep us up during these dark times. It’s almost enough to make you remember that you’re in a house you worked two jobs to buy, a house you have a hope of paying off, a house to house you and your beloved creatures. A sleeping dog to ward off monkey mind. And just as it’s working,  the alarm goes off.

4 thoughts on “Two Dog Night

  1. I swear our pets understand us better than we understand ourselves. They’re there when we need them, that’s for sure.
    I suspect, though, that I’ll lie awake tonight contemplating just what exactly “Monkey Mind” means for me…

  2. Thank you for this post. It seems I’m not the only one who wakes in the middle of the night- w/ fears that may or may not rational. And thank you for introducing the term “monkey mind”– wonderful! how many people’s minds are in monkey-mode right now?
    what was no surprise was Ray… there is something so profound about the depth of consolation a pet can provide. They really do have a kind of understanding and compassion that is beyond us. There are certain times when only a hug from my dog seems to be what can heal me.

  3. I do SO sympathise with you.
    The 3am panic attacks are truly dreadful.
    The mind refused to be still but instead insists on playing an endless reel of What If’s and Doom and Gloom in full, glorious technicolour and with the sound at top volume.
    I have probably paced the floor enough times to have cirumnavigated the globe and back during such sleepless sessions of fretting
    But dawn always comes and the gremlins depart and I repeat to myself as often as is necessary
    “Today is the tomorrow I worried about yesterday, and it didn’t happen”
    Maybe I should embroider that and hang it above my bed, surrounded by snowflakes and roses?

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