A Plethora of Pomeranians

My arms filled with my darling Holly and our special guest, Ringo. (Photo: Sherri Powell)

Nights - sans white satin

One would think a woman already care-giving for several elderly women (each with multiple needs) would exhibit some common sense. I believe common sense would be a reasonable expectation.
Not necessarily so it seems.
Foolish appears to be my middle name.
Instead of cutting back my work load I've added to it by bringing into the fold an ancient, totally high maintenance guy.
He is little black Pomeranian.
Ringo is around 15 years of age, which makes him a minimum of 105 human years.
Like most 105-year-old guys he sleeps a lot, an endearing trait. Another rather nice characteristic is that, unlike his 105-year-old human equivalents, he still pees precisely and doesn't dribble all over the place.
That's the easy part.
The not-so-easy part is that he and my 15-year-old female Pomeranian sleep on our bed. No, let me rephrase that, the Pomeranians allow my husband and I to sleep with them in their well-appointed kennel. And actually, we are not really sleeping with them, it is more like doing a night shift nursing on the chronic care ward at a busy hospital.
Husband has CPAP machine for his sleep apnea (that's a punishing transmorgafying machine. You dream you're sleeping with a movie star and wake to find you're actually sleeping with Darth Vadar. Obvious punishment for dreaming of being in bed with movie stars!)The CPAP machine serves an important purpose. It is much nicer sleeping with the swooshing sounds of Darth Vadar than experiencing the 90 decibel noise from snore-ridden husband. Now, I think a CPAP machine for Pomeranians is an invention whose time has come.
You see the little old Pomeranian guy appears to have quite severe chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. So, he needs some support at night because breathing is a challenge for him.
Sometimes Ringo's breathing is even a challenge for the other Pomeranian. Recently, he was having a noisy night-time coughing session and the other Pomeranian awakened from her slumber, came over, growled and snapped at the poor little old guy.
Her approach was alarming enough that the little guy stopped mid-cough because he felt that threatened. Seems to me there is a lesson in that about a girl needing her beauty sleep.
Little Ringo is here because I agreed to do doggy respite care over the winter months, while his humans winter in Arizona.
He was here for a trial run (pardon that doggy pun) this summer and was absolutely no problem at all. Mind you, his Sheltie was with him - an enormous comfort for the little Pomeranian, we realize in hindsight. We also did not have them in our bedroom then. They were together in our sunroom at night.
The sunroom isn't going to work now. We've already committed the fatal error. We're a pack.
In reality, I happily accept this little man into our fold. He has a cheery disposition, loves to snuggle -- my female Pomeranian adores me, but mostly from afar, she doesn't snuggle -- and he is a Pomeranian. That gives him license (and not just the one from the municipality that comes with a tag.) I can't imagine a life without these little guys ruling my day (and now my nights too).
Pomeranians, my being obsequious to their needs, foolishly giving in to their every whim, these behaviors are all commingled in my frontal lobe. Sortof like barking and crunchies are commingled in Pomeranian brains.
Aren't these guys are so lucky to have found such easily trainable humans?
And aren't I so lucky Ringo's humans trust me sufficiently to have their precious little guy stay here with us?