In my adult life, I have never owned a pet. My family had a dog growing up, Pepper. He was hit by a car when I was a freshman in high school. We inherited a rabbit named Cadbury a few months later. I was supposed to take care of Cadbury but it pretty much ended up being my mother’s responsibility. Cadbury had chronic diarrhea and every time we took him out of his cage he would flee from us in terror. He lived until a ripe old age out of spite and hatred for us.

Last night, Sarah brought home a dog named Daisy. She is not our dog. We are taking care of her for her owner, who is away on vacation. She is a very adorable and friendly Corgi.

Unfortunately, we are learning that even adorable and friendly dogs require some amount of attention. Our first trick last night was to figure out where she was going to sleep. She has a cage, but she does not like being in it. I can’t blame her. We left the door to her cage open and decided to let her make up her own mind about where she would spend the night.

It didn’t take her long to figure out where we were and that she had to be there, too. Although she’s a tiny dog, maybe 1 1/2 feet long, she can still take up a lot of space when stretched out on a bed that’s meant for two people. After about an hour of tossing and turning, we decided to put her in the cage.

Two fitful hours later, Daisy began howling something awful.

“I can’t listen to this,” I said to Sarah.

Sarah reluctantly got up and let her out of her cage. Overjoyed at her new found freedom, she immediately scrambled out of the living room and into our bed. She wiggled her way up to our pillows and attacked us with dogged enthusiasm.

“This dog is an asshole!” Sarah announced, in desperate need of sleep.

We all eventually fell asleep, although it was not entirely restful. That extra foot and a half is apparently crucial to my favored sleeping position. Throughout the course of the night, I would awaken and move Daisy’s legs into a better position, only to wake up a half hour later and find her sprawled out in my spot and myself teetering desperately on the edge of the mattress. I suspect that while I was sleeping she was fighting back by moving me into positions that were more comfortable for her.