It comes as no surprise that our soiled laundry is piled at the foot of the bed this morning.
I remember, as a child, looking out my bedroom window to see the starlings making a nest of twigs, tuffs of (probably) dog hair, and bits of string. Gentle snoring at the foot of the bed informed me that Comet was still snoozing comfortably. A dog-man (or person) gets accustomed to this sort of thing particularly when the nights are cool, the bedroom floor is a little cold on an old dog’s bones, and his sibling, Dexter is likely sleeping on the dog bed in the office doorway – blocking access to the dog bed beyond him.
Now we just have to remember to shut the bedroom door this morning when we leave this morning. Otherwise, Dexter will “nest” in our bed to spite Comet, since he cannot get up on it. I know this as several days when I had forgotten to close the door, I would find the comforter all rumpled and twisted on our bed. And since I was the one generally making a fuss, Dexter would deliberately lay on my side of the bed.
It's a Dog's Life 