For years I slept in a bed
with a man (Mark), two dogs, and a cat or two. This always led to me having but
a sliver of mattress for myself next to the edge of the bed. Now I have only
one dog that sleeps in my bed. A very small eleven pound pup that seems to take
up as much room as my old ninety pound dog, Chandler did. This morning around
four thirty, I woke up with the sudden urge to pee. Not unusual, I had already
got up and went to the bathroom twice before during the night. This time I
rolled over to put my legs on the floor not realizing I was already at the edge
of the bed. In a flash I was on the floor. Pain was immediate. Blood came next.
Yelling the word fuck, over and over again, soon followed. I fell out of bed. I
hit my chest on the corner of the night table leaving a bruised lump above my
left nipple. It was from my left arm that the blood dribbled out onto the
floor. I lay there for about a minute cursing loudly before slowly dragging
myself up and off to the bathroom. As I stood there in pain before the toilet, peeing,
Scout and Daisy watched hoping that this meant it was time to feed them. So that's
what I did. I stayed up and fed and walked the dogs. Dogs don't care if you
fall and almost kill yourself. If I had died and nobody discovered my body, they
surely would have waited at least a day before deciding I was edible.