Despite being a needy little guy, Gus has decided that he is not very interested in bedtime snuggling. At least not with with me. He has a definite preference for sleeping with Rory, who really is not a much of a snuggler.
Maybe he thinks that Rory is just playing “hard to get” and the challenge really works for him. I don’t know. My sister suggested that perhaps Rory is just better in bed. Whatever. In any case, the long hallway to my bedroom has become Gus’s personal Trail of Tears. He lumbers slowly down the hall, attempting to duck into every doorway he encounters along the way, with his tail and ears down. The look in his eyes can only be described as a cross between terror and abject despair. I’ve seen this look before. It’s why I don’t date.
I’ve attempted to reason with him–after all, snuggling with me is not strictly torture as defined in the Geneva Conventions–but as Donald Rumsfield would say, sometimes you just have to go to bed with the dog you have, not the dog you want.
BTW, isn’t it odd that when your dog snores it’s adorable and endearing, but when your partner snores it’s grounds for justifiable homicide?