Kasey is an old dog. Because she was a rescue dog who joined the family by way of the humane society, we’re not exactly sure how old she is. We’re guessing 14 or so.
But we do know this: she’s a very loud sleeper.
At night, Kasey sleeps on the chair next to Kish’s side of the bed. It’s fitted out to be a kind of nest, with some fuzzy “throws” swirled around that Kasey can burrow into and find just the right spot that suits her temperament. We know Kasey’s there because she snores. Sometimes it’s a wheezy, light snore, and sometimes it’s a more guttural, almost growling snore, and sometimes it’s kind of a huff and puff — but whatever its nature, there’s constant sound emanating from Old Kase during the nighttime hours. Sometimes she’ll stretch and move in her sleep, too, and you’ll hear the sound of her claws scratching over the fabric of her chair.
If you share the house with a canine snorer, you know that you get used to the sounds. They become one more part of the background nighttime noise, like the click and hum of the furnace turning on or the faint whispers of the air conditioning vents. We get used to those noises and come to expect them. It’s one of the reasons why many of us have trouble getting a really good night’s sleep in a hotel. We’ve traded the known, now-comforting nighttime sounds for a new, strange set of sounds, and hearing those new sounds can be unsettling.
As I sit here in the dark hours of early morning, writing this piece, I hear Kasey’s gentle snoring from the next room over, and I think: this is home.