Mandy is sleeping "under" the bed.
At the beginning of the summer, we put our bed on risers.
A bed that was once 6 inches off the ground, is now 11 inches off the ground.
We did it so our ever neurotic dog, Smokie, wouldn't get stuck under there anymore.
She'd cram her body under the bed, every time we had a thunderstorm.
If you get out a ruler, you'll see that 6 inches really isn't all that tall.
Smokie is a medium sized, thigh high, dog.
She had adrenaline to help her wedge herself under there, but when it came time to get out---she couldn't.
Eric and I would spend several minutes each morning following a thunderstorm, extracting an exhausted, hot and sore, dog from under the bed.
Now our bed is ridiculously tall.
Tall enough, that if Mandy wanted to get under there, she could.
Smokie sleeps under there.
Hobbes sleeps under there.
Mandy really wants to join the club.
She just can't quite commit.
She compromises----half way under and half way out.
I don't think the bed cares one way or the other that she's afraid of commitment.