Drama in the Bedroom

I have a problem: my bed has been taken over by the dogs. Now that the weather has taken a colder turn, the dogs tuck themselves into the warm, inviting bed long before I do. By the time I am finally ready to turn in, they have established themselves as the sole inhabitors of the queen-sized bed. And Kiste, in her sleep, becomes a 90-pound dead weight. She weighs, of course, a mere 56 pounds at the moment, but it seems to double as soon as she falls asleep. And she cannot be moved. She sticks her legs straight out and they don't bend. Her body stretches from one side of the bed to the other, and she cannot be budged. Then there's Max. He moans and snores and licks his chops in his sleep. And he also more than doubles in size and weight when in repose. Now, if I can manage to get them arranged properly, so that I can just slide in between them, we can all rest quite easily. But I find myself more often than not inhabiting about 18 inches of space way over on the edge of the bed, with only 4 of those inches being memory foam mattress topper. It is a travesty. And yet, I am so smitten with the silly creatures that I can't banish them. They are great snugglers, Kiste being the "front spoon," and Max being the inhabitor of the knee-pits. It is just nice to have someone there, even if that someone is an eight-legged, two-headed bag of lead.

The Babies in Bed
Where am I supposed to fit in this picture? And please note my totally dreamy cowboy sheets.


Kiste
Look how she got in bed with some dinner on her nose. Cute.



Max
Aw, how can I kick that face out of bed??

Some New Photos

Because my darling Max gets so chilly during cold weather, he hates going outside unless absolutely necessary. I, as an admitted addict of clearance shopping at Target, was unable to pass up a deal on dog "Moon Boots." I could never pay full price for such a thing, but in this case, at just over $1 a paw, I decided it was worth a try.

Max in Boots




Kiste had a "suspicious" lump removed from her right shoulder. I don't know if she is lucky or unlucky to have a vet tech as a mom. Since I know a Boxer's propensity for cancers, and she gets a pretty thorough "rub-down exam" weekly, we removed it within a few days of finding it. It was a mast-cell tumor, guarded prognosis, but hopefully we got it removed before it had a chance to even think of metastasizing.
This did lead to a few days with a bandage, which made Kiste VERY unhappy, and she moped around, embarrassed about her "outfit." Once I gave up on the bandage and went to a simple t-shirt to protect the incision, she was much happier.

Kiste Pouting





And this is just a picture of Kiste's Drinking Fountain. Because I love her.

Getting a Swig