Dog Eat Dog

The following is a true story. Unfortunately.

When I was living with my old roommate, he would occasionally "dog sit" for his then girlfriend, now fiancee. The dog was a cute little King Charles Spaniel, white with brown spots. It was sickly and puny, as was mockingly identified in its ironic name. Samson. We had a few good times together. It has since passed away, but that is not why I am writing.

Samson's usual daily schedule was this: wake up early with Benn (my old roommate), enjoy his breakfast, fiddle around the house through the morning, sleep the day away. Most working adults have an opposite schedule. One morning Samson aroused me from my sleep very early in the morning. Very early. I don't recall what I did the night before but I know I was out late and I was intentionally trying to catch up on sleep that morning. Samson wouldn't have it. The house was empty except the two of us and I guess his insecurity drove him to a barking frenzy.

I sat there in bed for a while, hoping that surely he would shut up. He wouldn't. I got up, swung open my door, stomped into the next room and found him sitting there. Barking. At nothing. My fury erupted to the point where there was no chance I was going back to sleep. I picked him up and carried him upstairs, tossing him on Benn's bed, closing the door behind me and set out to start my day. A few hours earlier than intended.

I couldn't work though. I was bent on revenge. I can't believe I honestly did this, but I did. Benn's room is where Samson sleeps, where he enjoys his long, lazy afternoons. And Benn's room is also where the computer and internet is. After breakfast I made my way back upstairs to do some work on the computer and found Samson curled up on the sheets, arousing from a morning nap at my presence. "Wake up." I snapped at him as I sat down at the computer. And what I did for the next few hours was intentionally keep him from sleep. He can't think that he is going to wake me up in the morning and not get away with it. If he is going to cost me sleep, I will cost him his. So I did my work and every now and then I would look over and see if Samson was sleeping. If his eyes were shut, I would shout and wake him. "Don't you dare go to sleep," I threatened. And then back to the computer I went. And I'd look over a few minutes later and his eyes were heavy and nearly closed. "Wake up!" I'd snap again. I think I even went over to him and shook him once. Just to make sure he wasn't catching up on the sleep that he cost me.

I honestly did this. For the rest of the afternoon. A few months later I moved out and then found out about Samson's passing. I can't help but think that at some level I am responsible. I prevented a dog from sleeping for an entire afternoon. And in retrospect, I can hardly fathom I actually did that. But I had my revenge. And it was sweet. And now I enjoy my quiet mornings.