Sleep Like a Dog

He's the epitome of energy. 

Everyone's heard the expression "sleep like a baby." While sleeping like a baby implies a deep, uninterrupted sleep, I think I would like to add another sleep expression to the American vocabulary with "sleep like a dog." We've got "dog-tired" so why not it's opposite "sleep like a dog"? Or more specifically "sleep like a chocolate lab." That's the kind of sleep I want - the kind where passing firetrucks with sirens screaming, smoke alarms and potential burglars don't even cause so much as an eyelid flutter. That's the kind of deep sleep I crave.
I've spent quite a few hours watching Porter sleep or sleeping with Porter and I'm continuously amazed at his ability to sleep through just about everything - except for Boots' nocturnal gymnastics. These past two nights have only reinforced to my why I deserted from the "cat person" camp and over to the "dog person" side. Cats are evil. I don't say that to be mean. I'm just stating a fact. Cats are the spawn of Satan and there's a good reason they were entombed with the pharaohs - it was probably a disgruntled king who just wanted to shut the damn thing up.
I wrote earlier this week that Porter and the cats have reached a new level of compatibility and that still holds true. But it doesn't prevent the felines from coming up with new ways to torment the poor pup in the middle of the night.

Here's Boots doing her "peeping kitty" act while
checking out the cats next door.

One of Boots' favorite activities involves jumping up on the wicker headboard of my bed and using it like a scratching post, waking both Porter and I from a sound sleep. And if that's not bad enough, she continues to do a tight rope act across the headboard, taunting Porter with her twitching tail, until he just can't stand it any longer and has to jump up and lunge toward the headboard, usually stepping on my face in the process. Even after the middle of the night interruption, Porter has absolutely no problems flopping back down and immediately falling back to sleep. I, however, am up for at least two hours.

Last time I was here Porter and I spent half of a night together in my bed before I ended up putting him back into his crate. This time, however, he's yet to sleep in his kennel and we snuggle together in the bed, back to back, like an old married couple. His snores and snorts are comfortably similar to my husband's and strangely, even though Jack's snores drive me to the couch, Porter's don't bother me at all., And while Jack suffers from restless leg syndrome and his legs twitch all night like he's running a marathon, Porter's occasional leg twitches only cause me to wonder what it is he's dreaming about. Is he in doggy heaven chasing a plump rabbit across a green field? And what exactly does doggy heaven look like? Would it be endless fire hydrants and rawhide bones on every corner? Or are his leg twitches caused by his dreams of being chased by a larger, more aggressive dog who has figured out that despite Porter's large size he's just a big marshmallow? Whatever the cause, Porter just sleeps on, blissfully unaware that every pharmaceutical company in the world would probably love to be able to recreate his canine narcolepsy and put it into pill form. 
I'm sure it would a bigger hit than Ambien. And instead of causing you to max our your credit cards with late night Home Shopping Network purchases you don't remember making, the worst that could probably happen to you is you'd wake up with an overwhelming urge to chase a cat.