Kickass, the doorstop dog, never has trouble sleeping, but the keeper, with his mild case of sleep apnea, does, and as usual he took his troubles to the VA where the sleep lab prescribed a device that fits in his nostrils to retard the ease of exhaling which in turn prevents the unpleasant sleep-interfering aspects of apnea.
In his usual state of ignorance and arrogance, the keeper delayed trying what seemed to him a ridiculous trinket, but finally, at Phyllis’s urging, he gave it a shot, and the damn thing worked, moderating his open-mouth sleep noises and allowing him–and Phyllis, more restful nights.
A downside is that with the device in place, the keeper resembles nothing so much as a pig with a prominent snout. He is not bothered by that, and Phyllis says she isn’t either. The keeper wants to believe her but he turns the bedroom lights off as quickly as possible once he has his sleep snout in place; and then he goes to sleep thinking that since he is sharing a bed with a woman who is willing to sleep with a pig, he wants to be that pig.