The Sleep of the Deaf

There is something fascinating about the way Faith sleeps. Like any dog, she'll pretty much plop down and fall asleep when there's nothing to do. Unlike most dogs, she can't "keep half an ear open" when she does. If something thumps the floor she'll look around, but otherwise her sleep isn't readily disturbed by things going on around her. If you'll pardon the expression in the current context, she's a sound sleeper.

If Faith wakes up alone in a room, she'll immediately search the house to see where everybody went. That seems to be disconcerting to her, so I try to make sure I touch her to wake her when I'm leaving the room for longer than a moment. Keep in mind that she's asleep, and she has no idea that someone is approaching. Getting touched unexpectedly - even gently - is pretty startling. And (very much as you might expect) there is a startle reflex in that first moment of wakefulness.

What I find amazing is how quickly she processes the fact that everything is okay. And the fact that there's no aggression or fear in her in that moment. By the time she's fully alert, which is very fast, she's already snuggling into the hand that's touching her.

Maybe I'm projecting, but there's a level of trust there that humbles me. No so much trust in me, as trust that the world is going to be okay. There are days when I really wish I could do that...

Trevor, of course, insists that he can sleep just as solidly as Faith can. At least when he's not stealing bath mats. But as you can see, the scamp is cheating. He's not looking at the camera. Oh, no.

Did I mention bath mats? He's taken to sneaking off with them when I'm taking a shower. And he knows perfectly well what he's about, too. Makes a point of ambling slowly and looking over his shoulder until he knows I've seen him with the damned bath mat in his mouth, then walks out with it. So far they've ended up in the kitchen, the family room, and my office. He's a mix, sure, but his sense of humor here is all border collie.