Falling asleep has always been an issue, but once the day's errors finish replaying, and the anxiety for tomorrow is shoved back, and my pillow is scrunched just right, and the blankets are properly squared, and the box fan is on, and the hideous green lights on the cable box are covered, and I stop spinning and stirring, I sleep pretty soundly. Or at least I used to.
Why I opened my eyes in the middle of the night I can't say, a sound maybe, or just a feeling. But in the darkness, as my vision cleared, and silhouettes of dressers and tied curtains and a stack of clean clothes on the chair, all started to make sense, I saw his face. I heard his rhythmic breathing. He remained still, staring at me, only a foot away. My breathing slowed. No, my breathing had completely stopped. I was frozen, forced to tell myself to breathe. Minutes passed. Could he see that my eyes were open? Was he waiting for the right moment to attack? I couldn't believe the dog was asleep, on my bed, letting this happen.
I'd grown up with dogs always being a part of the family. Schatzi was small, fast, and furry, and not much of a guard dog, but she'd have at least barked at the sound of an intruder. She died before I turned seven. Liebchen was probably the largest of them all, eighty-five pounds maybe. Lucky for her and us that she was so big, because although her size kept undesirables away, she was absolutely harmless. Then came Schoene, part german shepherd, part greyhound or whippet, and mostly batshit crazy. She slept with one eye open, once broke a living room window to escape, and went over our four foot fence so many times that we had to chain her to a run in our own backyard. The uninvited never would have stepped on the property, much less into the house or my bedroom. Hell, Schoene even bit me once. The only time she wasn't in full-attack mode, was right after I got married, when I showed up at my parents' with a new puppy, Gretchen. The poor old girl jumped against me, saw the creature I had in my arms, walked in the living room, plopped to the floor, and sighed. Gretchen wisely gave her space, then gradually became my dog in the truest sense, joining me wherever a dog was socially permitted. She didn't have Schoene's ferocity, but she was sizeable, smart, and loyal. Gretchen certainly would have put herself between me and any threat.
So while he stared, sizing me up, wondering if he could finish the deed before I could fend him off, Rolo slept at our feet, oblivious to the danger, or unconcerned because I was the only one in peril. She was four years old at the time, probably not even six weeks when we first brought her home, but Rolo was never my dog. She was my co-deeder's, from the instant we rescued her from some dipshit's cold, dilapidated coop, through her agility training and competitions, to every meal and every walk. I was, at best, a mere temporary substitute until Rolo's true companion returned. I knew my place, and that was okay, but could she really sleep through my assault?
He came closer, studying me, his face only a few inches from my own. His breathing, still rhythmic, became louder, faster. He closed in on my neck, making me wonder if he was going straight for my jugular. I wrestled with the decision, defend myself or continue to fake sleep? I felt him along my cheekbone, barely touching me, and then he nibbled my chin with his little razor teeth, so gently that he wouldn't have punctured a Kleenex. Then he did it again, and again.
My co-deeder rolled over. "What the hell are you doing to that kitten?"
"Me? I haven't moved. What the hell is this kitten doing? I think it's tasting me. I've been watching him for fifteen minutes. The whole time he's been staring at me, wondering, 'Can I kill the old guy before he wakes up?'"
"Yeah, well, I think you're safe. He's two pounds."
"He's chewing on my face, right now."
"Those are just kisses, but I gotta tell you, I've never heard a cat purr that loudly."
"I've never heard a cat purr at all. I'm a dog guy. I hate cats."
"Well you've got a problem, then."
"Why?"
"Because that little guy, the guy named Burt, he just picked you."
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