Now Matilda-the-tenacious-heeler has been taught that the furniture in the house is out of bounds. This house rule she keeps, and each night the generally horsey-smelling heeler is content to sleep like a log in her snug little bed next to mine.

But when the wind came galloping through our ranch last night like a herd of wild horses being pursued by a big thing with teeth, I couldn’t find sleep, no matter how hard I tried. After counting sheep, and a couple of half-baked semi-awake dreams, I said to hell with it, and decided to break my own rules.

A blue heeler is not a bad bedfellow in a pinch.

Snugged up with Matilda, my nose buried in the shaggy fur of her neck while she sighed, sniffed, scratched, snored, and sneaked in a few licks, I thought of heelers, horses, windmills, fields, clear still ponds. And finally found, at last─sleep.

Flickr photos: extremekayakerchick; extremekayakerchick; doggish; extremekayakerchick