Said pooches sleep in the laundry room overnight, which--with 3 large food bins, a washer, dryer, & freezer--has enough space for their beds and not much else. This is mostly because they have to have 4 beds for the three of them--to prevent fights (most of the time). Somewhere down the line, they've also acquired a pillow in the mix. And none of the humans in the house care to have it back.
Last night (okay, when this posts it won't have been), we put them to bed and headed upstairs. There was some grumbling among the natives. Girl-Child told them what-for then there was silence. Five minutes later a turf war erupted. These wars, between a chihuahua who rules the house with an alpha fist, a chiweenie, who thinks he's a rottweiler and bosses the cats & largest dog around like our own resident Tough Guy, and the largest dog, a very tiny pit bull mix who thinks she's a chihuahua, sound like the turf is going to implode, or someone is going to be eaten whole. We hadn't forgotten to give them their extra bed so I was baffled at the cause. We all shrugged it off in their quiet and adjourned to our rooms.
Round three came shortly after and I put on my Mean Mom Pants and stomped down the stairs. There was silence. I was pretty sure they were curled in balls, shaking in their fur boots at the thought I was on my way.
Thing is, the pibble has adopted the pillow. And the pillow had been somehow shoved halfway under the alpha-chi's bed (probably as I climbed over/stepped on dog beds while attempting laundry--I really have some nerve invading their space that way, I know). For reasons I will never know, this situation did not deter pibble--who is terrified of alpha-chi--from curling up onto her beloved pillow. Nor did it hinder alpha chi from climbing into her bed, now halfway on top of pibble. I can only assume that every time one of them moved to get comfy, the other took offense and started the low growl that always leads to the other trying to out-growl them, that leads to full-on growls of "who can growl the meanest," at which point, our very "special" chiwee likes to jump in the competition, and that usually causes pibble to begin her high-pitched shrieks of half bark, half cry as if she's whining about being ganged up on.
I swung open the door--well as much as one can swing a door that is already butted against a large fluffy dog bed--and stomped a foot for emphasis to my loud, "What is going on in here?!" The answer was unanimous. Three sets of sweet little dog eyes peering up at me from their sleeping positions as if to ask whatever did I mean by that.
I pulled beloved pillow so it was no longer even touching alpha chi's bed, shook a finger at them and shut the door. Not another peep was heard all night.
I'm going to pretend it was the horror of rousing Mean Mom from her warm bed that silenced them, and not the fact they got one of their humans to come downstairs at midnight and arrange their sleeping quarters to their comfort.
One day we we will finally convince pibble she's not a chihuahua. Maybe.