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Published Wednesday, November 09, 2011 in Opinion

Hammock heaven

I've taken to sleeping in my hammock lately.

It's an old hammock but it still works great. My hammock-sleeping time has been on Saturday afternoons when I'm forcing myself to take a break. It's coming pretty natural to climb up in it and snooze till I'm done snoozing, although Dyson the Terrible Puppy has other ideas.

I have a routine that causes me to gather certain necessities before stretching out on that hammock. I need a quilt to put over the ropes so I can have a barrier between the cold air and yours truly. I need another quilt to cover up with, a pillow to put my head on, a smaller pillow to hug and something to cover my eyes from the daylight.

There are cat naps and then there is this: my serious naptime.

Naturally, the crucial components needed for such a serious nap are located around the house, so I go from room to room picking up what are now my Saturday snooze staples. With my arms overloaded and quilts dragging the floor, Dyson the Terrible Puppy follows every single step I make, often getting ahead of me then stopping to turn around as if to ask where we are going.

I'm a one-trip girl. I have to load myself up like a pack mule, whether I am getting bags from my car or supplies for my porch-hammock nap. I struggle under the weight or oversized load, barely get through doors and can hardly wait to unload my arms.

There are things I don't know, such as why my dogs walk ahead of me then stop to see where we are going and why I don't make two or more trips when I really should. It's just the way things are and the whole thing is mysterious and much bigger than me so I just don't question it.

So my hands and arms are full when I realize I certainly cannot snuggle in for a nap without my laptop and phone. Though the door is just a few feet away from the hammock, carrying all this has to be in one trip. Somehow I manage to stuff more in my arms and wading through the load of quilts and electronics, I struggle through the door. It is the same door that Dyson the Terrible has already popped in and out of, via his personal escape hatch at the bottom.

There is another escape hatch -- aka doggie door -- on the wall of the back porch, which is where my hammock is. He decides to celebrate my porch arrival by running back and forth between his doors, crashing into the bundle of quilts and my legs, carefree as any Terrible Puppy can be.

After the celebration subsides, Dyson the Terrible Puppy and his buddies Kerby and Hoover watch as I make my hammock bed. Once I got everything situated, Dyson and Hoover jumped onto the hammock so they could curl up beside me. We were all comfy cozy when suddenly the shivering began. It was rather chilly, and though I had covered the pups with the top blanket, their short Boston Terrier hair was no match for the fall nip.

Glad to have my cell phone, I called Ninja Man, who was working in the front yard. He wasn't too thrilled about stopping what he was doing to deliver dog coats to the lady of leisure, but he did it and only complained a bit when I asked him to put the coats on the dogs because it would mess up my nap nest if I had to get up.

Once they were dressed suitably for the occasion, the pups snuggled in again and we all fell asleep. In too short of time there was a bark of a neighbor dog which caused mine to temporarily go insane. When they jumped off the hammock it created enough sway to make it difficult for them to jump back on, which they were desperate to do once they realized there was a greater vantage point if they stood on my head and shoulders.

Hoover managed to get back on the hammock on the first try, and at nearly 31 pounds almost tossed me out of the nest. Dyson missed his careful calculations of the ebb and flow of the hammock and almost broke his tail falling backward. I've never seen a dog land quite that way, but he pretty much fell right on his fanny. It was then I realized that giggling makes hammocks move.

When they decided to get back on the hammock so they could roost on my head, I tried to stay covered up. Once the excitement was over, the pups settled down again and Dyson the Terrible Puppy began to shiver. I uncovered my eyes and observed a little red puppy coat on the porch floor, right where the little guy landed earlier. Having many failed attempts at this nap thing, I did what every lady of leisure might do. I covered my eyes again, picked up my cell phone and called Ninja Man.

•••

(Kathy Bohannon can be reached by email at kathybohan@yahoo.com .)

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