Go. Lay. Down.

Sleepyheads,

I have the pups with me at the ‘Lodge this weekend, which is fine and could be fun. It could be if they hadn’t decided to have a little come-apart at 3:00 this morning. Pacing, panting, scratching at my cushy soft leather sofa to make it, I dunno, softer?

Nothing I could offer them helped. They didn’t need to relieve themselves. Not hungry, not thirsty. And get this, they wouldn’t even calm down after I relented and let them sleep in my very own bed (they’re blanket hogs, by the way).

I finally gave up at ten after four. Might as well get ready for work, since I was far too ticked off to sleep. I arrived at six and was bombarded with requests for my time. There’s a story about why that was the case, but I’ll have to write it later.

As for now, I hope the dog’s water bowl has finally thawed. Twenty degrees will do that, you know.

Your pal,

bob