I wake. It is dark.
Very dark.
I’m cold.
Why am I cold?
I am cold because I have no covers over me.
What’s that noise?
Whimpering?
Sit up.
In the dark I can see…. one… two…. three dogs on the bed with me. Who’s missing?
Fumble in the dark for light switch. Knock over glass of water, raising sound of protest from Minnie who has just been splashed.
Locate light switch, and after dazzled moment, identify Minnie, Seamus and Shannon all on bed with me. No covers, only sheets.
Where is my bedspread? King sized, washable and purchased for sterling qualities such as durability, lack of enticing tassels and stain resistance. This has not prevented it acquiring rips and holes.
More whimpering.
I look down to see….
Duncan sitting on the floor crying. I can see his head only, stuck through the hole of a four-inch rip in the bedspread. The king sized blanket envelopes the rest of his body and drapes over the carpet, effectively trapping him inside. With his button eyes and over-large pointy ears, swaddled in a vast swathe of fabric, he looks like the world’s most unlikely Madonna.
Shivering, I get off the bed and untangle my little tripod from his imprisonment.