Poor Smokey has been up four nights in a row needing to "go out" multiple times. But really you all should be saying "poor Denise". There I said it. I'd like a little freakin' sympathy!!
Really I'd like it even better if someone else would occasionally take care of the dang dog's needs!
To bring the dog "out", I have to navigate through my dark bedroom, through Montie's dark bedroom, down the dimly lit back staircase, use the bathroom, get a drink, pet the cats. traverse the same dark path back up the stairs & through the rooms to deposit Smoke back in his crate in Morgan's room, then go wash my hands from the slobbery lips that just accepted a treat.
Basically he gets rewarded for waking me up.
The utterly impossible thing about it too is that I'm already prone to insomnia.
These tendencies only went away while I had three younger kiddos & I was literally up over night for years on end (NO I'm not exaggerating!)
Pile upon my mind's natural inclination to not want to sleep enough for the rest of my bod with some major sadness over losing Montie, and I'd gotten myself into a depressive rut.
Unisom helped with that... and at least I sleep now. Not a full 7 or 8 hours worth, but enough that I'm not walking around a weepy wreck or like some mega-beotch on a hormonal tirade.
My natural instinct is to be a night-lurker. I've enjoyed feeling the cool morning seeping through my open back door, hearing nothing but the chirping birds & some underlying insect noise, but I especially like the total quiet of 2am. I speculate this has something to do with my hermit-like, anti-social tendencies, welcoming the hours when no one at all expects me to "do" anything for them. (Dang, that sounds a tad selfish & neurotic??)
Last night, Smokey had me up at 1:30, 5:15, and then at 6am I grabbed a pillow & blanket, threw the back door open & laid down on the couch. I figured I'd sleep with the door hanging open so he could come & go as needed. Not only was the sun was peeking out by then, but no one was going to creep in past my protector.
To no avail... the birds' songs too exquisite, the unnatural quiet of the house (our bedroom sounds like a wind tunnel between the a/c AND the fan going), the cats going ballistic on the other side of the family room door, and/or my utter irritation at how once I'd come downstairs, Smokey fell asleep on a cushy chair & hasn't moved in 90 minutes have all conspired against me once again & no sleeping has occurred.