Perfection of the Nap

I was raised in a family of great nap takers. My dad took naps on the weekends after working in the yard or fixing one thing or another down in the basement. After being in constant motion for most of the day, he would come inside or upstairs, wash his hands and even have a little bite of something to eat. Then, when the four of us kids were all squirmy and tiring of each other's company, it would be nap time. Sometimes if we didn't notice it was nap time, and we were being loud and rambunctious, my dad would appear from nowhere standing over us. The little bit of hair he had on top of his head would be all mussed and he would have a stern look on his face. But, most of the time we knew nap time was approaching and would prepare. This meant getting ourselves situated in a part of the house that would least disturb him, stocked with things that would amuse us quietly for the hour or so that he might nap. Sometimes, we would nap, too. For us kids, this usually required an old western on TV and rain pouring outside.

Married now for many years, one of our favorite past-times on weekends has been our weekend nap. Since we now have Sophie, our mixed breed dog, the art of nap-taking has required some modification in order to be sufficiently satisfying. After-all, a bad nap can ruin a perfectly good afternoon.

Sophie, a Catahoula Leopard Dog, the dominant breed in her heritage we discovered recently, now weighs over 50 pounds. The nap arrangements between just David and I on our futon couch had been perfected over many years. We each take an end with feet to head and plenty of pillows, and blankets when needed. Add one hefty dog and the balance of things is thrown. Add the fact that Sophie does not know how big she is, the nap starts to completely break down. Sophie does not know that she can no longer snuggle comfortably atop my stomach or across David's chest. Well, not comfortably for us, that is. She will try walking atop a jumble of limbs and body parts covered by a blanket until we finally have to shoo her off to start again. But, once she is off she rests her chin on the futon next to us with the saddest of eyes that melts our hearts.

So after several weekends of disrupted naps, at long last we have come to the perfection of the nap. There is a sequence of assembling ourselves on the futon that must be followed, else all must disembark and start once again. The order is David, then me and finally Sophie. David lies catawampus. I then take the other end, lying down and lifting legs upended across the back of the futon. Yes, I am comfortable this way. I even have pictures of my dad taking a nap with a one-legged version of this. Finally, Sophie climbs on and has only one of three satisfactory positions available to her. One is her butt to my butt, facing David, looking adoringly at him with her head resting on his chest. The other is the wedge position, where she lies like a tomato wedge between two wedges of iceberg lettuce. Or, the final variation is the pimento, where she lies under the covers in much the same fashion with only her snout protruding. With the last two positions, she rests her head on my arm or across David's feet and looks adoringly at me. Any of these are satisfactory and produce a nice result.

There are ample pictures of my three brothers and my dad all in a row on a couch in unknown relatives' homes across several states with each of them napping. It is said that a family that naps together, stays together. Or perhaps I made this up. Nevertheless, each of my father's descendants appears to enjoy the occasional weekend nap and have married partners who are also amenable to the nap. Sounds like perfection to me.