Milton and I are in some kind of standoff. I'm amazed that, at 34 years-old, I'm in this situation but I guess that's the price I pay for living in Alaska and having an "I'm not in the bush anymore" high.
See, we bought this amazing mattress from a company in Anchorage. It's king-sized, individual pocket coiled, memory foam topped and perfectly firm. We were so excited to find the bed of our dreams and so excited NOT to have to ship this behemoth of a mattress to the bush that we smacked down our credit card and ran out of the store to buy cozy warm sheets. We forgot to ask a few critical questions...questions like where exactly IS the mattress we just bought.
Turns out the thing had to be custom made. Three weeks after buying it, our sweet mattress is somewhere along the West Coast of North America, puttering it's way to Alaska on a barge.
Every since our furry little friend popped a hole in our air mattress, we've been sleeping on the floor. It's been a week. We're getting grumpy. Hunter and I have each built a little nest of every soft thing we can find - blankets, clothes, sleeping bags...
Two nights in, I went looking for something, anything, more comfy to sleep on. And that's when I found it - Milton's LL Bean dog bed. I washed it, covered it with an old table cloth and made my little nest out of it. It was a vast improvement over the floor.
Milton isn't happy. Every morning, when I jump in the shower, I find that he's dug my blankets out of the way and is lying on his dog bed. I think that's petty of him since he doesn't usually sleep on that bed. He's got two. He only wants it because I do. He's being such a toddler.
This morning, he didn't wait for me to get out of bed before he started digging for his bed. He got ejected from the bedroom pretty quickly. After all, he's got his favourite bed. My favourite bed is on a cruise.
So here I am, 34 years-old in a turf war with my 17 month-old puppy over a dog bed and checking coastal weather like an obsessive. Nice.