You know pillow pets? They're a small pillow made for kids. They're fluffy and furry and have little heads and tails attached to them like a stuffed animal. They come in the shape and color of dogs and cats and penguins and I don't know what else.
And they're really cute. Which is why I like to sleep with them. And I don't just have one. I have, like, seven or eight pillow pets. They're small. So sometimes one isn't enough. Like potato chips.
All of my pillow pets are dogs. Because I really love dogs.
I actually have three of my own dogs. They're all rescue mutts. Small to medium sized. And you'd think, "Well, you have three real dogs. And you still need, like, eight stuffed dog pillows to sleep with? You're a nut, lady."
And I'd be, like, "Yeah." It's true. I am a nut and I have learned to embrace my weirdness.
But my dogs actually won't sleep in the bed with me. They're weird and neurotic, just like I am.
You hear about people who can't sleep at night because their dog takes up half the bed and from what I understand, that's pretty normal. But my dogs aren't normal. I've spent years trying to get them to sleep in the bed with me, but they won't. It's ridiculous.
So I sleep with pillow pets instead. And my husband puts up with this. To tell the truth, I bought one pillow pet and he bought me the rest.
That's how you know if someone loves you, by the way. They put up with and even encourage your weird shit.
I also have nightmares. All the time. So I don't really like to sleep.
But the other morning, I woke up in such a horrible way that it made me want to go back to the bad dream I was having.
I don't want to bore you with a ridiculous dream, but I'll just give you bits so you have the context of what I was going through.
So... In my dream, I'm a supermodel. I'm rail-thin and elegant.
I know. It doesn't sound so bad, right?
I'm walking down the runway in this really awesome white hand-beaded and fringed dress.
And I look down, and the dress is a mess. I've gotten my period and it's soaking in blood. And you'd think I'd be horrified at all of the people in the audience watching me, right? But I don't care at all about the people. All I can think is that they're going to make me pay for the dress and it retails for $6000 dollars.
So I decide that if I just finish my walk down the runway like nothing is wrong, maybe nobody will notice and I can get to a washing machine and wash the dress.
Because it's logical to throw a bloody $6000 dress into a washing machine and expect it to be just like new and nobody will notice.
So the catwalk thing goes fine. I am a rockstar and I pull it off. And I get backstage and it's a maze of hallways and staircases and I run around and I find a dishwasher. And I decide that will work. Because it's logical to throw a bloody $6000 dress into a dishwasher and.... yeah.
That's when my ex appears. And I'm all, "Look. I have a dress I'm busy with here and I've had enough therapy about you that you're not supposed to show up in my dreams anymore." Apparently at this point I know I'm dreaming.
And this asshole reaches out and grabs me by the shoulders and starts shaking me. And I'm kind of scared, because this guy has beat me up before.
But, back to reality - it's okay. I've had therapy. And now I'm in a happy marriage.
I just want you to understand how bad this dream is. It's gone from worrying about how to clean a dress to being shaken like a rag doll by this douchecanoe. So you've got the context, right? Waking up should be a good thing, right?
So I wake up. And I'm still shaking. Or, more precisely, I'm still being shook.
Well... the bed is shaking.
So, my husband, the guy I mentioned who puts up with me? He'd gotten up earlier than I had and wasn't in bed. So it wasn't him shaking the bed.
I roll halfway over and fling my arm up into my pile of pillow pets and I realize one of my small dogs has actually gotten into bed with me. And it takes me a minute, but I start to realize what's going on. And this is unacceptable.
The dog is humping a pillow pet. Or maybe all of them, like an orgy. I don't know. That's what's shaking the bed.
And... it dawns on me that I don't know what to do.
That whole thing where male dogs get the humps? And it's like their doggie wieners have taken over their whole body? And they're possessed by this non-stop humping passion that they can't even seem to control?
I'm laying there in the bed, being shaken by a small dog humping a pile of pillow pets asking myself what the options are for dealing with the problem. And I can't really think of any.
Should I pick the dog up and throw him out of bed? I know if I do that, his hind quarters will just continue to hump the dog bed or whatever is on the floor because he's really in auto-hump mode. Yelling at him probably isn't going to work any better.
And I'm kind of embarrassed. For the dog. Even a little for the pillow pets. At this point I'm leaning towards ignoring the whole situation.
So my mind starts to wander.
I'm thinking to myself that the dog has been neutered and I don't understand why neutering a dog doesn't keep this kind of thing from happening. I'm actually a little annoyed with the veterinarian. Like he really didn't do his job well enough.
I start to wonder... if the dog knew if I was awake, would he be embarrassed? Then I laugh to myself and think it's going to be a funny story when I go downstairs and tell my husband.
And then...
And then.
I feel this...
spray. Of wetness.
Across my face. Specifically, my left eye.
And suddenly I am MORE AWAKE THAN I HAVE EVER BEEN BEFORE IN MY ENTIRE LIFE.
There's this physical response happening. I am afraid to open my eyes. I'm throwing up in my mouth a little. I need to make it to the bathroom sink to wash my face, but I'm freaked out and disoriented.
But far worse is the mental response. My brain is thinking things that no human should ever have to think.
I literally have the thought that I'm happy the dog was neutered because that means there aren't dog sperm trying to get in my eye. And now I love the veterinarian. I might hump the veterinarian.
Then I wonder just what the hell is in my eye. Without his nuts, what could be all over my face? After a dog loses his testicles and has this ridiculous humping thing happen, does he urinate a little bit, maybe?
And I feel RELIEVED. That maybe I have dog pee on my face. And I'm struck by the thought... once again... that no human should ever have to feel relieved that they might have dog pee on their face.
I trip over one of the other dogs on my frantic run to the bathroom sink and fly forehead-first into the bathroom counter. These fucking dogs are in on this thing together.
