Comfort is King
I had planned on giving you a really ripping yarn about my bodily functions (read: poop) and how they affect my life and the lives of those around me. Then I thought more about it and decided you did not really need to read a post about that. Well, maybe you do, but not right now anyway. Aside: I find it quite humorous how my two-legs has to pick up my poop. Who is the master in that situation again?
Anyway, back to the task at hand. It was now Tuesday and I was lounging around the house, racking my brain for ideas on my next post. It has been a very boring uneventful (napping, eating and lounging all day is not boring, it just does not make for good blogging) past few days. Then I remembered a funny phenomenon that occasionally happens in the bedroom (no, not that, get your mind out of the gutter). It is not that funny in words, but is really funny in images. So all I had to do was wait for the right moment. Sure enough, Wednesday morning, my two-legs is getting ready for work, the joy of having him finally be awake has worn off, and big-little-bro and I have laid down again for some needed rest. Yes! This is it! Perfect! I told my two-legs to snap a pic and post it for the world to see:
No, it is not forced perspective. The big dog is in the little bed and the little dog is in the big bed.
Take all that in for a moment. In the upper part of the frame we have me. A 25-ish pound mini-schnauzer, taking up what is probably a 16-inch by 10-inch area of a massive 36-inch by 48-inch pad. At the bottom is big-little-bro. A 80-ish pound uhh, err, dog, oozing out of a 24-inch by 24-inch puppy bed.
Now you may be thinking, “Well maybe your bed is more comfortable?” First off, the pillow that you are supposed to be laying on at the bottom is just bunched but beside him. Probably because two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time. Secondly, both are equally comfortable beds. Mine (my real bed) is plush microfiber and has little walls that I can nestle into in. His (his real bed) is a hand-crafted aerofoam bed covered in soft microfiber. It was made to his exact dimensions with a bit extra so he could stretch out (the skirted two-legs is a whiz with needle and thread). For reasons I cannot fathom, big-little-bro insists on wedging himself into my bed. Not only is he stretching it out and shedding profusely on it; I do not see how it can possibly be enjoyable to curl up in. Meanwhile I sit like a flea on a tennis court! And I cannot get his bed to my liking because it is aerofoam! You ever tried to move around aerofoam to build up a little cushion? I paw at that thing for about 15 minutes before I just give up. My life is like the princess and the fricking pea here.