The way the furniture is crammed into the computer room, there's an 18"
x 34" space between the futon and the window. On one side of the space
there's a large computer desk which can't be climbed under. On the
other side is the small night table which is several inches higher than
the futon. The only way to stand in front of the window is to scrunch
under the futon the long way (way too low for humans to fit) or to go
over the futon the short way (permissable for humans but not for Cubbe).


For years, Cubbe has been sleeping under the futon. She scrunched
under, turned, and slept with nose poking out. On hot nights, she'd
settle for sleeping on the carpet next to the futon, not den-like but
cooler.


Recently she's developed a new habit. She sleeps under the futon or the
table. The table must give her the secure sense of sleeping in a den
but with more room to turn over without hitting the roof (a habit I
found wonderful comforting as I slept). Or she sleeps under the futon,
but by morning she heads to the space by the window, gets pats, turns,
and looks at us, we think for permission to hop over and get out the
easy way. Permission has not been granted to set paw on the humans'
bed. She has to scrunch back under. I think she's learned that she's
not going to get permission but has realized that it's easier to turn
from a standing, not a scrunched, position. She's not as agile as she
once was. She doesn't have the turning radius she used to.


--Lia

Julia Altshuler spoke these words of wisdom in
:

The way the furniture is crammed into the computer room, there's an 18"
x 34" space between the futon and the window. On one side of the space
there's a large computer desk which can't be climbed under. On the
other side is the small night table which is several inches higher than
the futon. The only way to stand in front of the window is to scrunch
under the futon the long way (way too low for humans to fit) or to go
over the futon the short way (permissable for humans but not for Cubbe).


For years, Cubbe has been sleeping under the futon. She scrunched
under, turned, and slept with nose poking out. On hot nights, she'd
settle for sleeping on the carpet next to the futon, not den-like but
cooler.


Recently she's developed a new habit. She sleeps under the futon or the
table. The table must give her the secure sense of sleeping in a den
but with more room to turn over without hitting the roof (a habit I
found wonderful comforting as I slept). Or she sleeps under the futon,
but by morning she heads to the space by the window, gets pats, turns,
and looks at us, we think for permission to hop over and get out the
easy way. Permission has not been granted to set paw on the humans'
bed. She has to scrunch back under. I think she's learned that she's
not going to get permission but has realized that it's easier to turn
from a standing, not a scrunched, position. She's not as agile as she
once was. She doesn't have the turning radius she used to.


--Lia



A poignant testimony to her aging. She sounds like a very sweet girl

diddy wrote:

A poignant testimony to her aging. She sounds like a very sweet girl.


With Genny and Sheppe, I don't remember being so attuned to the signs of
age. With Cubbe, I'm noticing the small things. Cubbe is still very
much a young dog when she's outside. She runs with energy. She's aware
of her surroundings, still has it out for leaves and squirrels.


The other day she was well snoozed on the couch. When the evil lawn
truck rattled by, she went from full snore to major alert barking in a
matter of seconds. That sums up the state of her aging right there. If
she were younger, she wouldn't be sleeping so soundly during the day.
If she were older, her hearing wouldn't be so acute to squeaks.


--Lia