As our little darling lies peacefully in her crate, she appears to be fast asleep. However, as it is only early evening, her ears are gently swivelling to  catch the sounds that waft in through the balcony doors better, and if I move toward the kitchen, she will be in front of me by the time my foot hits the first stair.

It is the same if she hears Geoff shift on his seat downstairs. She can tell the particular sounds that mean he is putting on his walking boots. The sound of keys or last minute additions to a handbag has her leaping to her feet and bounding about, yodelling and woofing with excitement.
It has not always been like this. For the first week she lived with us, she was so weak and exhausted that she slept for twenty-three out of twenty-four hours. The first time she stayed awake for half an hour, we almost threw a party. She would curl up in her bed, and apart from shuffling about and grunting from time to time, she slept like the dead.

Even once she was well and growing into a happy and healthy puppy, she would fall fast asleep during the evening, and it would be difficult to rouse her to take her out for a last walk before bedtime. A diary entry from when she was about five months old reads:

Last night she was peacefully asleep in the sitting room when I wanted to go to bed, so I tried to persuade her that she needed to go up for a wee. She just opened her eyes, looked at me, and closed them again. I tried stroking her and making a fuss of her to bring her round. She just opened her eyes, looked at me and closed them again.

I did excited clapping and made “Oh, won’t it be great to go and have a wee!” noises. She didn’t even bother to look. I slid my hands under her chest and tummy and lifted her to her feet. She looked at me, yawned, and as soon as I let her stand on her own, she just slimed back down onto the floor and closed her eyes. This procedure was repeated SEVERAL TIMES!!!

I ended up having to carry her up two flights of stairs, with her a floppy, warm, dead weight. She is sooo heavy. She was like an oversized boneless chicken.

I don’t think she means to be awkward; it’s just that once she has really gone to sleep for the evening, it’s really difficult to rouse her.
Not so during the day: if I try to get anything done while she is sleeping – she’s up like a shot and “helping.”

Now she is a young adult, Poppy spends considerable amounts of time doing ‘dog stuff,’ sniffing about among the plant pots for the elusive gecko, watching the world go by from her favourite spot on the Juliet balcony, throwing corks around and chasing them, thoughtfully chewing her favourite bone (left hind leg) or delicately nibbling her toenails. Obviously, all this frantic activity is exhausting, so she needs to take power naps regularly.

During the summer months she tends to sleep upside down in front of the sofa, because that way she can lean gently against it, supporting the weight of her legs to achieve more perfectly restorative sleep. She also likes to lie in front of a fan, although she has not yet developed the discernment to know whether the fan is plugged in or not.
During the winter, she curls up in her cosy nest inside her crate, or does her best to stuff her head inside the log store beneath the wood-burner.

Summer or winter, once we start making moves to retire for the night, she takes herself off to our bedroom and settles herself on her mattress by Geoff’s side of the bed. I lie awake, listening to the shufflings and groanings and the beginnings of gentle snoring. Apparently, so does she: as soon as she is certain Geoff is not going to be getting up and sneaking off anywhere, she takes herself off to sleep the rest of the night away. I hear the quiet tip tip tip of her claws on the tiled floor and listen to her turning around and around on the spot, before settling to dream dog dreams curled up in her crate, or stretched on the cool tiles of the Juliet balcony.