Dog Tricks #2

In the last post about Rusty, I described him as quirky, but did I mention he's also a ninja?  Or perhaps has  has mastered the skill of teleportation, at least as far as thwarting our efforts to keep him off the bed is concerned.  Rusty has the ability to appear to be resting peacefully under the couch, but when I go into the bedroom and sit on the bed, I am forced to spring back up again when I realize I've sat on him.  He is also blessed with superhuman--or shall I say supercanine--stealth speed as he has the ability to make it from his dog bed on the floor to curled up underneath the covers in the amount of time it takes me to get up and turn off the light.  And then he'll look up at me, mustering his most pathetic look, wagging his tail and acting like he's been there all night.  I must admit his tactics are working.  Lately, we've been allowing him to sleep in bed with us because whichever genius engineered the heating/cooling system in our house made it so that almost no air makes it to the master bedroom, so in the winter it's usually only a few degrees warmer in our bedroom than it is outside, and I worry that in the morning all we'll find is a little dachshund icicle on the floor (I was going to try and be original and combine the words "Rusty" and "icicle," but came up with "Rusticle," and that wasn't quite the image I was looking for).

Our little hotdog friend's abilities don't end there.  Despite the fact that is a mere tenth of my body weight and just about that amount of body mass, he has the ability to use every ounce of it to the fullest.  I often wake up at night only to find that I have been relegated to what amounts to about twelve square inches of bedspace while Rusty enjoys prime real estate in the middle of the bed.  And getting that prime real estate back is no mean feat.  If ever Míša is in the way, all it takes is a gentle nudge, and she politely makes room.  Fighting with Rusty for space reminds me of the wrestling matches my sister and I occasionally had over a spot on the couch.  It takes all of my strength to move him an inch, and as soon as I release pressure to get my wind back, he slithers back into place.  OK, my sister didn't slither, but you get the idea.  Later I get up for a drink of water, and come back to the bed, and there he is, cemented to the center of my half of the bed and it starts all over again.  But he's pretty darn cute doing it.