It was a rude awakening at the ungodly hour of 4 with the disconcerting sounds of my infant wailing. Walking into a room that looked like a tornado had torn through it and seeing my dog Max amidst the chaos, the mere thought of him possibly being a threat to my little one was enough for me to send him away.
However, a couple of nights post this incident, something on the baby monitor made my blood run cold. On the screen, I saw a reflection of myself in the room, with Max frenetically doing his best to prevent me from harming the infant. I appeared to be the one culpitably scattering things around, although I had no recollection of this.
The troublesome reality was that I had been sleepwalking, blithely entering my child’s room and wreaking havoc.
Bearing the startling revelation, I promptly recourse to medical assistance to manage my sleepwalking propensity. Subsequent to this, I approached my neighbor, pleading for Max’s return. Astonishingly, she assented.
The unimaginable incident and its humbling aftermath invariably transformed my perspective towards Max. He is no longer just a pet but a celestial guardian to my daughter.
