When your dog is injured, his or her bed must be comfortable. But comfort isn’t the only thing that matters. There’s also the question of location, location, location. Also, your dog will not tell you what bed he likes and he will not tell you where he wants his bed to be. You will have to figure out how your dog thinks and what type of bed your dog likes and prefers, and where he prefers his bed (or beds) to be placed.
I moved a lot of times when I was injured.
Here is my tale of moving:
Before I was injured, my parents had my bed in the living room. That is where I slept at night.
My bed a great bed: It has lots of fluff, and a really nice cover to lie on. Whenever my mom washes the covers, I’m so happy to have my bed back afterward. My mom makes a big ritual out of it: She comes up from the basement and gets me, then I follow her into the living room. Then she puts the bed together. Then she smooths it out. I’m standing there watching every slow move. The crowning point is when she pats the bed twice. That’s my signal that I have my bed back. Whether I am tired or not, I ceremoniously go lie down. It smells clean and it feels soft.
My parents have kept my bed in the living room for years, next to a sofa, because the living room is a large room and because on Friday nights and Saturday afternoons, my parents like to go to the living room and read. I don’t read but sometimes we all fall asleep in the living room. From my bed, I can see my mom and my dad. Last but not least, I can get some attention from my parents when I’m there nearby. Since I can see them, I know when they’re looking at me and I will not waste any time in coming over to them to get a pet.
This place in the living room is where I was stationed during my injury, when I was confined to the living room and the dog gate stood like a soldier always at attention, keeping me to the living room side of the gate.
Several weeks after my surgery, when the doctor said that I could walk around the first floor and the dog gate was left open during the day, my parents created another bed for me. They placed two fleece blankets in the dining room, folded once and folded again, right by the side of the door between the dining room and the kitchen. I know this was my second bed because my mom folded it nicely, placed it on the floor, and smoothed it out. Then she patted it twice and that was my signal that this is another bed for me.
When my parents would go out and I was home alone, I would remain on the fleece blanket in the dining room. That’s where they would find me when they would come home. I would not go back to my comfy padded bed in the living room.
This was difficult for my parents to figure out why this was the case. Why did I prefer to be on a fleece blanket in the dining room, over a nice comfy and fat bed in the living room? Did I prefer the fleece to the soft comfy bed? Or did I prefer the spot in the dining room to the spot in the living room? Was one spot cooler and one spot warmer?
Here my parents are trying to figure out how I think. They know what I choose, they know what I prefer – but they want to know why that is my preference. They want to understand me.
I think they’ve figured me out. They’ve figured out that what’s very important to me is being a part of the family – and the place where I most feel like part of the family is in the dining room right by the opening to the kitchen. My parents spend so much time in the kitchen and also in the dining room that this has become my favorite spot.
As a result of this discovery, they moved my soft fluffy bed from the living room into the dining room, and then moved my double fleece blanket folded once then folded again into the living room. Of course on Friday nights when they go into the living room to read and talk and fall asleep, I’m right there with them, either sleeping or trying to get attention.
Of course I have a third bed too. My third bed began when the splint came off and I was allowed to walk up and down stairs. Knowing how much time and how many nights I’d spent alone when I was not allowed out of the living room, they got another blanket that I love and they folded that again and again and set it down next to my parents bed and, just like before, patted it twice, which was my signal that this was my new bed. This is the place where I sleep at night so I am not alone. I am with my family.
With so many beds of my own, that my mom washes regularly for me, I don’t need to be on the sofa. Or I don’t need to jump up onto a sofa when my parents aren’t home.
It’s so nice to have comfortable places to rest. And it’s also nice to be with my family. Doesn’t every dog have at least three clean and comfortable beds?