Girl, Rottweiler, and Bedtime

Moses goes to bed at nine o'clock every night. He walks into my mother's bedroom, curls up on his bed and proceeds to sigh and sleep. His schedual doesn't really ever change, curling up wherever his people are, if they are up past nine.
When he was very small we tried putting him a crate at night, my mother went through four nights of puppy crying, howling, barking, and whining before she decided enough. Reading a book called "The Art of Training a Puppy" we learned that, do to pack behavior, crating a puppy up at night isolates him, thus he would be nervous. The monks who wrote the book suggest buying a dog bed and tethering the puppy to your own bed at night, he can't move around much but still feels like part of the pack. The night we tried, he didn't cry at all. Problem one solved.
Moses now isn't tied up at night but a few nights ago something peculiar happened when my mother opened the door to let him get a drink.
A little past 1:00 am. Tuesday. March 5, 2013
Location: My room.
I am a pretty good sleeper, very little wakes me up, tornados pass and I sleep through them. There is one sound however that snaps me out of sleep faster than a racecar on adderal, the sound of my door opening.
At one o'clock in the morning, its even more pronounced because everything else is quiet. I freeze mid dream, and open my eyes a crack. Nobody is in my room besides me, I'm safe, back to the dream I was having about batman proposing to me (I am a geek so sue me).
Being back in slumber, it takes me a minute to register the strange noise coming from the side of the bed. It sounds like a low quality vacuum cleaner sucking in air. I crack my eye open again, but see nothing. I have a basement bedroom so there is very little light at one thirty in the morning, making it impossible to see. I assume it's my imagination (though why my marriage to Bruce Wayne would have a low quality vacuum sound, I couldn't tell you) and turn onto my back.
A short whine sounds throughout the room, I want to be there! Please!
I turn back towards the edge of the bed and peer over without peeling my head off the pillow. There sits a darker spot, wagging his tail, I hear little paws click on my wood floor. Sadly, Batman is now the furthest thing from my mind.
"Moses." I don't even bother questioning his presence. I also don't bother to think about how he opened my door.
Mo let's out another short whine, pick me up, I want up!
Being half asleep, I cringe as I get out of bed and pick him up. Apparently, at one forty five in the morning, a person forgets that the almost six month old puppy is sixty three pounds and has been athletic enough to jump onto the bed since he was three months old. After a few seconds of realizing that I really couldn't lift said puppy this early in the morning. I climbed back into bed and patted next to me, "get up here."
Mo launched himself over me and stood on the bed, waiting for me to make room. Rottweilers have a distinct want when they are with their people, they want to be as close as they possible can be. They are leaners, cuddlers, and want to be touching whoever they love. Mo is no exception to this rule. Moses, who is at the foot of the bed, begins beside my feet and works his way slowly up. When he is at my torso, he starts to inch closed until he feels my body, then he plops with a content sigh.
"Bed hog." I snarl as he pushes himself further under the blanket.
I have to be up at five thirty it's now two, so I roll over, he scoots into my back. I smile as I fall back asleep, this dog is a great cuddler.
When I get up the stairs the next morning at six, my mother stares at the puppy who follows, "Traitor."
I can't help but grin.
"What time did he come downstairs and crawl in bed with you?" My mother asks as she drinks her staple drink, diet coke.
"One, I think, what happened?"
Mom shakes her head at the dog, " I let him out into the kitchen to get a drink, normally he comes back. I realized about twenty minutes later he apparently wasn't coming back."
I laughed.
"Your bed is probably more comfortable anyway," Mom shrugs as I grab the leash and my car key, "have fun at work, both of you."
I clip the leash to Mo's red collar, "we always do, let's go Mo."
When you say the word "go" Mo whines with excitement, because he really does want to go. I grin, we head to my lime green volkswagen bug.
Six thirty am, I turn the key to the coffee shop. Moses rushes inside, over to the box with treats, grabs one, proceeds to red couch and curls up. We begin another day of work.