Bette is Mark's Dog

When we drove down to the Miami-Dade Animal Control a little over a year ago, it was to pick up Mark's dog. A skinny, matted, mess of a schnauzer puppy that Mark had seen online. When we saw her in person she looked even worse than the photo on the internet. Still, while Mark went around and fell in love with another puppy that was cleaner and cuter, I held this little mess named Lilo in my arms. She looked up at me with those eyes and I was hooked. We were bringing her home. We renamed her Bette and for the last year I've tried to teach her the do's and don'ts of our house. Meanwhile, Mark was teaching her to beg at the dinner table and...  well that's it. He taught her to beg at the dinner table. Bette has been a fun ride. She loves her big brother Chandler, in fact she's made him her bitch. As for me, she learned that I was the guy who walked her, who let her out in the yard to pee, and who filled her bowl with food. What she didn't do was show much preference for who she liked more, me or Mark. Well, suddenly in the last couple of weeks that has all changed. Bette has fallen in love with me. So much so that at times she is a pest. She follows me around, she pops her head up between me and the desk so that she can tap at my arm. The same arm that has the hand that moves the computer mouse around. She has also suddenly found my lap. She now jumps up into my big fluffy chair with me and sleeps for long periods in my lap, something she has never done before. All that is very sweet, and I appreciate that Miss Bette now knows where her bread is buttered. But she has now started doing something else that has me totally freaked out. In the middle of the night I will be awakened by a weight on me. If I am sleeping on my side the weight will be on my arm. If I am sleeping on my back the weight will be on my chest. It's Bette, she's stands with all four legs, on top of me. I'll open my eyes and there will be Bette staring down at me, her face an inch from mine. In my half awakened state I will move her off of me. Bette immediately steps back up on top of me, and there is only one true way to get her to stop standing on top of me. Bette has to pee, and she wants to pee outside. So I get up out of bed, grab the flashlight, and let Bette out the back door to pee. Bette could stand on top of Mark for an hour, she could dance a jig on his chest. He'll never get up and let her out for a quick pee. Like I said, Bette is Mark's dog.