Danny the dog and Cold Feet(Radrook) Danny the dog and Cold Feet



The basement we lived in Newark New Jersey for a year after moving from the New York Housing projects, tended to be cold during winters despite the radiators. So when the three of us, my father my mother and I, would sit on the sofa watching TV, we would wrap ourselves in thick woolen blankets. That would keep our bodies warm except for our feet. It was an inconvenience that we had come to accept as unavoidable. But that was soon to change. You see, one day as we sat shivering, along came Danny Boy from under the bed where he sometimes rested, and draped his steaming body over our ice-cold feet.

That was it. We were hooked. Soon it became a family tradition of sorts. Going to the living room, we'd sit close together so that his small furry body could spread its heat evenly keeping our feet toasty warm. How he knew that we needed that help, I don’t know. But he seemed to understand at some level that we would appreciate it. We certainly did appreciate it, and were all praise for the little portable foot-warming heater that Danny had suddenly become, out of what we assumed, had been the kindness of his little dog heart.

But, as is often the case with many things that are beneficial, this one also had a catch. You see, the problem was that Danny would gradually doze into a semi sleep and didn't want to be awakened. In short, we couldn’t move. If we did, then he would growl. That would stop us. You see, we didn't want to drive him away. That might leave our feet at the cold's mercy once more. Nevertheless, it was a very uncomfortable proposition:

“I am willing to warm your feet, but don’t you move and disturb my sleeping while I am dozing!”

Soon we found out that every foot movement had to be executed in slow motion in order to leave Danny Boy undisturbed. Any sudden or sharp movement was instantly met with a deep growl. After several hours of this struggle, my father finally began to protest.

"So this means that we can't move right?" His voice was like the calm before the storm.

“Not if you want warm feet," my mother who had assigned herself as the unofficial spokesperson for Danny Boy ever since he had shown deep delirious appreciation for her cooking, responded in her usual casual way.

“But what if I want to scratch my leg, or just move my feet in order get some circulation?"

"Grrrrr!" Danny sensed that it was about him whom my father was talking and that it wasn't anything good.

"Did you hear that?" my mother asked. “Do you know what that means?"

“What does it mean?" As usual my father seemed completely oblivious about Danny Boy’s motives.

“You really don't know what he is telling you when he growls like that?" as usual my mother was baffled that my father didn’t know what Danny Boy was saying in his dogish way.

“What is he telling me?” he asked sounding genuinely baffled.

“He's telling you that if you keep waking him up and moving around like that he is going to bite you!"

"Esto esta cabron! I work like an animal all day and want to watch a littleTV but can't move because the dog I feed good food to, with the sweat of my brow, will bite me?"

"Not if you want warm feet!"

"I didn't ask him to warm my feet! Did I ask him to warm my feet? Huh?"

“Grrrrrr!”

“He does it out of the goodness of his heart!" my mother added as an afterthought.

"Oh yeah? Then why is he threatening to bite me? Did you hear the malagradecido [ingrate] growl again just now?"

"All he asks in return for warming your feet is that you don't move so he can sleep!”

“So now we can’t talk ether right?” My father was gazing desperately around as if he was being held hostage.

“I understand exactly how he feels." my mother responded.

"You know why I know exactly how Danny Boy feels? Because when you constantly wake me up at night, you make me feel the same way. Mira! Whoever wakes me up I feel like killing him"

“And suppose I have to go to the bathroom to de-water. Eh? I can't get up to de-water either? Carajo! Then what?"

“Grrrrrr!” Danny went as he noticed my father' tone getting worse.

"You can't say he didn't warn you. Right? He warned you that he is going to bite you if you move. So if you get bitten, you asked for it."

“I asked for it?"

“Yeah you asked for it because you know that he doesn't like to be disturbed when he's sleeping!" she added nonchalantly.

“I have been holding it back for an hour now. How much longer am I supposed to hold on?”

“Well, those are the terms. You can either accept them or reject them. But if you do, remember, he did say he would bite you if you moved.

“Oh si? Mira carajo!” my father got up suddenly pushing the dog aside with his foot.

“Am I supposed to have my bladder burst so he can sleep?”

“You didn’t have to treat him so roughly!”

“Ha! Ha! Really? If I do it slow, then he would have bitten me like you said.”

“See?“ my mother said sadly, “now he’s under the bed and isn’t coming back.”

“Let him stay under the bed. That kind of favor I don’t need!”

“Ingrate!”

“To you his sleep is more important than my bladder right?" my father said after contemplating what had just happened.

“No but he is just a dog.”

“And what am I, huh? Chicken manure?”

“No, but you have more capacity, so I expect more from you than from him!”

“You see all this? This I brought upon myself!”

“Grrrrrr ruff! ruff! ruff!” Danny responded from under the bed as my father marched passed on his way towards the bathroom to des-aguar, or de-water, as he always, strangely referred to it
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Why dogs sleep on our feet
https://www.animalwised.com/why-do-dogs-sleep-at-your-feet-1488.html

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