Everybody Loves a Heated Blanket

Allow me to tell you a little bit about my bedroom at home (assuming it is still mine and my sister hasn’t moved in). Of the two kid bedrooms in my house, its the bigger one. It has lots of natural light, built-in drawers in the walls (cool, right?), a big comfy double bed, and walls I painted my favorite shade of yellow. Its the life, except for the fact that its situated on the end of the house over the garage. Those three outside walls and bitter cold garage right underneath you mean that its basically the same temperature as outside in the winter. I spend my winter nights curled up under a heating blanket set on high, only surfacing for air.

Okay. How does this sad tale of woe relate in any way to Charlie? Here’s how.

Remember when he peed on my rug? Well I do, and even though he was cute and I was beginning to really enjoy taking him on walks, there was no way I was just going to forget that event. The only way to prevent that from happening again was to seal my door shut every second that I wasn’t in it. Problem is, I’m only ever in my room when I’m sleeping or changing my clothes, so my room was sealed shut for 12 hours every day.

And that’s where the first part comes in. I’d open my door to get ready for bed and it was like opening a freezer door in the heat of summer. You needed to wear a coat in my room, it was awful. As I laid in bed night after night and could barely distinguish between the present and the time I went tent-camping in December, I wondered if it was really worth it.

Early one morning, after sleeping with the door open because Charlie spent the nights in his crate, I felt a paw swipe at my arm.

Is this photo unrelated? Yeah, but it’s of Charlie so I’m making it work. This is when he graduated from puppy school, arguably a more important day than my high school graduation.

I looked down, and there was Charlie, trying desperately but too small to get up onto my bed. Quickly awake, I picked him up, set him outside my door, and closed it. He could find someone else’s room to be in.

But the next morning he was back. And he was back every morning. As I found out, my dad took him out around 6am and then let him go free in the house. And for some reason, at 6:30 every morning, Charlie just really wanted to go back to bed in my bed. But every morning I got up and closed my door so he couldn’t come in.

As the days passed, he got stronger and bigger, and one morning my door was open and he managed to jump up into my bed. I thought about it carrying him out, but he couldn’t really do any damage laying on my bed. He just wanted to sleep and he was warm, which was a big plus. So I let him stay, and it became a routine.

Every morning at 6:30 Charlie would jump up into my bed and nuzzle down into the covers beside me. Pretty good way to wake up, right? I sure think so. I also stopped closing my door during the day, because I gained trust in him.

A few weekends ago when I visited home, Charlie slept with me for the whole night, and I don’t think there ever was a happier little dog, or girl, for that matter.

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