My rough theatre is my bed. Some may ask, “How can a bed be
considered this?” Well, a year and three months ago I adopted a rescue dog. Her
name is Daisy. She is a mixture of a lab and hound, so she has short tan fur
and adorable floppy ears. She was abandoned on the streets, left to fend for
herself as a puppy. When she was finally rescued by me, she was around one year
old. Daisy has horrible separation anxiety and is also an escape artist. She
could escape her crate when I was gone. I came home one day to find my mattress
on the floor and multiple huge holes in the box spring. The sheets were ripped
to shreds, but Daisy sat with her innocent eyes. Of course, I was furious, but
she didn’t know better yet. I picked up the mattress and destroyed sheets and
remade the bed. I sat there with her, unsure of how to handle this, so we laid
on the bed together. Daisy may have destroyed my bed, but we rescued each
other.
Everyday Daisy and I lay in the same bed together. I fall
asleep with her at my feet and wake up with her next to my face. She sits on
the bed waiting for me to come home. Upon arrival, I’m always greeted with a
wagging tail and dog smile. Daisy doesn’t care or know what mistakes I make.
She loves me just the same. As I write this sitting on my bed, she kicks me and
tries to lay on top of my stomach, but she just wants attention. So, my bed in
no longer is in the same form as the manufacturers intended, but that’s okay.
It is my rough theatre. This deformed bed is where I get to spend quality time
with my favorite loving pup.
