The Midnight War for My Bed
No matter how far over I move, there he is
It always starts around midnight.
He pushes against me.
I ignore it for the most part but sometimes I push back.
Every time I move he shifts closer, taking the small buffer I finally made for myself.
Don’t get me started on the blankets. His constant tossing and turning forces the blankets off the bed. That is when he’s not rolling them up over himself, so as to steal any bit of cover I might have.
No matter how far over I move, there he is. Encroaching on my space.
I’ve had enough. What should be a peaceful slumber has turned to a tumultuous game of nocturnal trench warfare. This is the Maginot Line, sir. Your advance stops here.
But he never relents.
It keeps going.
Until the sun comes up. Then, he leaps from the bed and pads on four feet to the kitchen.
He returns wagging his tail, signaling it’s time to eat. Oblivious to the nighttime assault on my sleeping space.