bed slob

There must be something magical about turning four in a dachshund's life. At least for this little kielbasa. A switch of some sort that flipped on December 12th and told my little friend that he must from now on dig thru blankie after blankie in his bed, to get down to its supposed comfy core. Strewing his bedding carelessly about like a little kid digging through his toybox. Turning each bed he encounters into a disheveled pile of fleece, down, and whatever else I might have stuffed into a box to give my boy the cushiony comfort I thought he wanted. A switch that turned him into a total teenage bed slob.

It used to be that fresh-from-the-foster-home-Baxter would climb delicately into his bed, first lying gently atop whatever bedding he encountered.  Hardly leaving a trace of his presence after he left it.

As Baxter got older and began sleeping with us more regularly, a new phenomenon.  The uncanny ability to wiggle himself under the top layer of blankie, covering himself as he had seen his mom and dad do. Using his blankie the way he saw us use ours, and still leaving a fairly tidy bed in his wake.

But now at the ripe old age of four, it's now all about the digging. The rooting about.  The undoing of that which I redo everyday.

I am actually quite heartened that our journey has led us here, to the point where the little kielbasa thinks of this place and his beds as his home and sees fit to make it his own.  His little den, to be made however he likes in whatever fashion he'd like. I am heartened, even as I tidy up one colorful blankie explosion after another.

Home is most definitely where this little bed slob lies.