I steal the blanket, he says.
I took his pillow, he says.
I sleep in the middle of the bed, he says.
He wakes up to my toes on his pillow, he says.
Pass Bronco (the dog) over, he says.
We’ve lived together some two/three years already; and still every night it’s a new night; new battles; new crazy positions I twist and turn into in sleep. We still argue over who gets the dog to cuddle (Bronco is the reigning favourite, so much so, sometimes our domestic helper fights for him too.)
He often tries to untwist me, thinking it must hurt to sleep like that but it wakes me up, surly. There are nights he sleeps on my pyjama dress; and I valiantly try to hold in pee till the morning. Sometimes, we swap pillows (and then swap them back later) just to jazz things up a bit.
But on quiet Friday nights, like these, I’m ever thankful he’s here to keep company. My choice companion, my faithful friend.