Body Divots and the Four-Legged Bed Invader

I was away last week for six days. I was in British Columbia being wined and dined and golfed into a blissful oblivion. Joey was here in Joisey working like crazy. Speedy had the house to himself. Not a good plan. When Joey would finally get home, he would crawl into bed and wait for my very late call (British Columbia and New York evidentaly are not on the same time zones...). Speedy decided to keep him company and helped himself to my side of the bed. Joey informed me during our nightly phone call that Speedy was sleeping in a human fashion, head resting on my pillow. I was not pleased. I don't like to share my pillow. I told Joe this was probably not a good thing to allow as the rightful owner of the right side of the bed would soon be home. We have spent this whole week waking up every couple of hours to the little "tap tap tap tap" of Speedy's nails as he leaves his perfectly lovely house with wonderful fluffy pillows to come jump into our bed, nudging us out of the way and burrowing under the covers. Joey will push him out of bed, he'll come around to my side, stand up agains the rail, and I say "Speedy, go lay down." It's not a nightly ritual I like. What I like even less than a fuzzball in my bed is a body divot. We splurged and got the 'baffle-box construction feather bed with synthetic feathers'. All of which makes it sound like you'll be sleeping on a cloud of air. Except the cloud only lasts for all of 2 minutes. If you don't fall asleep in those two minutes, you can feel the faux feathers compressing into your body shape, loosing all of its fluffy comfort. I've been trying to be more efficient on my Wednesday laundry day, making the bed as soon as I get back from the laundromat. Only, I've been finding out that once I fluff the feather bed and put the sheets on, Speedy decides that it is indeed the most comfortable place in the house, and since he has taken a liking to my side of the bed, we'll come home from our Wednesday life groups to find that the nice fluffy bed is all ready for us to climb into, with a large, dacshaund-shaped dent on my side. Ah, life with the pup.