The Sweet Dreams cop

My dog, Ben, is not shy about making his needs known at night.

Whether it's the wind, an urp-y stomach or an upstart news carrier delivering our morning paper a hour earlier than normal, Ben lets me know when he. is. not. amused.

Sometimes this happens via a low, slow, menacing "Uff. Uff. Uff." and Ben will call it good. But generally it involves:

The Paw.

The Paw is very expressive. And persistent. The Paw is white-tipped and elegant and quite gentle as it taps my arm, head or butt -- whatever is most easily accessible -- to let me know its owner can't sleep and would I please do something about it. Usually, in a sleep-fogged state, I reach over, scratch Ben around the ears and tell him "It's okay."

By Ben's of thinking, this is not very satisfactory. The Paw returns and taps again. . .  now with a little more urgency and punctuated with a series of soft, sad self-pitying sighs.

Poor Ben.

In recent weeks, the long arm of The Paw has gone beyond nocturnal notifications about stormy weather and upset stomaches. The Paw now lets me know when I'm snoring too loud or have exceeded the acceptable decibel level for talking in my sleep.

This is a new development -- and one I'm not sure I approve of. These days, I snore a lot -- and have strange. relentless, topsy-turvy dreams that have me laughing one moment, shrieking the next.

Poor Ben.

I think we need to have A Conversation, the Paw and I.

A girl, after all, needs her beauty sleep.

And so does The Paw.