Who's the Boss?

Enid wondered why her husband was having difficulty sleeping after all these years of getting eight hours without any interruptions.

“Chris, why are you getting up in the middle of the night?”

He eyed her blearily before responding. “I don’t know. I just seem to be waking up every night at 3 in the morning.

She’d been with him for twenty-five years, more than half her life. When they first met, it amazed her that he’d get up at 4:45, rain or shine, to go to the gym. It amazed him that she enjoyed working out before the pool closed at night.

“How can you stay up till 3 in the morning and still be productive at work?” he asked.

“Did you know that Martha sleeps for less than four hours a night?”

“Are you comparing yourself to Martha Stewart?”

“No, what I mean is that there are many people who get by on four or fewer hours of sleep a night. Some say they get more done this way.”

“Are you saying I sleep too much?”

“Not at all. What works for me is different from what works for you. I’m an owl to your meadowlark,” she remarked.

It helped that her work in the entertainment field meant that she could sleep in after working into the wee hours of the morning.

Since it concerned him that she would still be up when he was waking up to start his day, she made a point of going to bed before he got up. Still, lately she was discovering that he was getting up in the middle of the night and then returning to bed.

One night, she awoke at 4 a.m. to discover he was dressed and wide-awake.

“Are you going to the gym?” she teased, knowing it had been years since he’d left the house that early.

“No, Baxter got me up. He licked my face, splayed his bum in front of my nose, and let off a fart that could take down an entire army.”

Baxter was a Boston Terrier, and he was able to fall asleep anywhere, under any circumstance.

“Thanks, Chris. I’m glad I slept through that experience.”

“He howls and begs me to feed him. He cries if I wait,” her husband said.

“Are you feeding the dog at four in the morning?” she asked incredulously. It would explain why the dog was ravenous in the early evening.

“I don’t want him to wake you up. You need your sleep,” he said earnestly.

Much to their surprise, when they went on vacation, their sleep patterns became more uniform. He’d stay up till eleven, and she’d prepare for going to bed shortly after midnight. Baxter also adapted, keeping later hours with Enid, getting up in the early morning with Chris, and then snuggling in for a couple more hours of downtime.

It was with surprise that a few months later, Enid woke up at 3 in the morning to find the bed empty. Not only was it empty, but the place where her husband lay was cool to the touch. She wondered how long he’d been awake.

She found him slouched in a chair, chin propped on his hand. “What are you doing? Are you having trouble staying asleep?”

He was staring at a video showing a Manx cat cuddled into an American bulldog.

“No, Baxter needed to go out.”

She looked at the clock. “Did you feed him?”

“No. Well, I gave him a treat for doing his business when we went outside.”

Baxter stared up at Enid expectantly, his big dog eyes brimming with affection. She bent down to scratch behind his ears. In responses, he danced on his hind legs, completing three full twirls.

“He thinks you’re going to feed him. That’s his happy dance,” said Chris.

She was incredulous. “At 3 in the morning? Doesn’t he know it’s still bedtime?”

Chris gulped his hot tea. “Well, we’re both up. He’s been outside. I guess he figures it’s breakfast time.”

“Please don’t feed him now. It’s night time and he has to learn to wait.”

“I’ll feed him just this one time. Tomorrow, we’ll make him wait.”

Enid eyed her husband with skepticism. “If you say so.” Her voice trailed as she slipped into bed.

The next evening, she prepared a pot of decaffeinated tea. She wished her husband a good night and continued working until 2:30 a.m. From time to time, Enid looked in on her husband. He and Baxter appeared to be in a competition to become the loudest snorer. At 3, she climbed into bed. Baxter looked up and put his head back down. He curled into Enid, remaining in bed until Chris awoke at 6:30.

“I can’t believe I slept for a sold eight hours. I feel like a million bucks,” he said.

“That’s wonderful,” she mumbled. “Now let me get a few more hours of sleep.”