Ho hum, you say, we already knew this. But if that is your reaction, I don't think you understand just how LOUD Dorothy's snore is. I'm sure that many evenings, people in the Poconos think they are about to be besieged by a strange early winter thunder storm. But it isn't thunder! It's Dorothy Hyacinth snoring down in Philly.
I had a pug in my bed for seventeen years, so I thought I knew from snoring.
But it turns out pug snoring and bulldogge snoring are two different things: a pug snore is a merry little whistle, with perhaps the occasional snort, snuffle and grunt. Dorothy's snore is so loud I swear if my bedroom were bigger, her snore would be enough to propel the bed from one side of the room to the other.
Her snore goes down a few decibels when her head isn't on a pillow, so on occasion I will rotate her counter-clockwise so that her head is level with her body. This buys me a few minutes to fall asleep myself, before the lawn mower honk-shu starts up again.
I'm on the verge of trying to plaster Dorothy's snout with some breathe-right strips. I'll let you know if they work.
Dorothy thinking: I don't snore in your ear; I whisper sweet nothings.