Waking Up In The Nights

Seventh Month is over. So at least I can predict the dog’s panic atracks. They’re triggered by thunderstorms and lashing rains. She’s a four-legged barometer. She detects the drop in atmospheric pressure so well that I always know if there’s an impending storm. She's accurate to thirty minutes before the rains hit. Her degree of anxiey and fear is in accordance with the severity of the thunderstorm. She knows how to calm herself down if the rains are light, and thunder doesn’t arrive. She doesn’t care if it drizzles the whole day either. She’s happy to go out in the rain because peeing is paramount.

Each time I open the NEA weather app (my best friend literally; it saves me from a drenching) and see 'pre-dawn and early morning thundery showers', I’m damn sian. Because that means I’ll be awakened by the dog at these ungodly hours. Luckily for me, I fall back to sleep easily. I'd rather take on the responsibility of soothing the dog at night than have the man do it. If he's woken up, he can't get back to sleep. Sleep doesn't come easy for him; insomnia has plagued him all his life.  

Even in deep sleep, I can be woken up by the dog quite fast. Sometimes I try to cover my ears and shut her out for a good ten minutes before I get up. Ultimately I can't very well ignore a nervous dog either whistling or crying from anxiety, or digging the mats/bed and rattling the safety gate from fright. It's not within her power to comprehend certain things. She isn't being whiny or willful. These are genuine needs that I have to address. 

The dog doesn't sleep on our bed. She has her own bed. As it is, we grant her minimum bed privileges and allow her to have a snooze before we turn in. But she doesn't take us up often on that. Once in a while, she does. She sleeps in her own bed, on the chill pad, the carpet or under the dresser, or her favorite place- the bathroom mat. Zzzzz. The whole of last week saw Sumatra squalls, and I HATED THAT. I had to wake up EVERY SINGLE NIGHT. 3am. 5am. 5.45am. 4am. 5am. WTF. Consecutively. The dog barometer was spot on. I was bloody zonked last week. From the looks of it, more to come this week. Fuck. Thankfully, the dog’s anxiety is nothing as wild or hysterical as those Seventh Month inexplicable panic attacks. 

I don't want her panting and pacing to wake the man. So I sit with the dog in the corridor, literally nodding off asleep against the wall. If the rains get heavier, I'll go out to the living room with her. I'll just crawl into the armchair to continue sleeping. The dog will sort herself out. Once out in a wider space for her to 'take stock of the situation', chances are that she'll calm down, come lie quietly by my side, even if she's still trembling a little. We return to the bedroom when the storm abates. And hopefully, I can get in another two hours of sleep before it's truly 'wake up time'.