My boyfriend is conveniently out of town. It's 1:30 am. I didn't stay up too late. I was sound asleep.
About half an hour ago, the new puppy, who is turning out to be about eighty percent bull dog, miss bowling ball body herself, woke me up. She had to go out. Fine.
I staggered to the door, opened it for her, and she trotted into the night so I figured she was going to uh, how do I put this delicately? Divest herself of some of the vast quantities of pork meat she had consumed yesterday as she ate bone after bone while I tried to get work done in my classroom.
I had given her one bone, but she soon figured out that if she stood on her stubby little hind legs, she could reach the table and drag the bag to where she could reach the remainder of the bones, and I let her because I was desperate to buy enough time to make serious headway before students arrive in less than two weeks. And now she was up in the middle of the night.
I went back to bed, figuring she would soon nudge me, wriggling her whole body with joy at her own wonderfulness and waiting for the indulgent lady elevator to drag her 30+ pounds of plumpitude back up onto the bed, because even though she's capable of jumping onto the bed herself, she prefers to be lifted.
I dozed off, and the oldest dog, Mrs. Beasley, came back from the living room where she had been sleeping and demanded to be let under the covers and into a space wholly taken up by Bunny Shmenkleman, the largest dog. I was in the middle of telling her how unreasonable she was when I remembered that Bosco the puppy hadn't returned, and it was now at least fifteen minutes later. Hmmmmmm.
I flung my tired self out of bed once again, into the garage and to the door. She was quietly sitting there. How odd. She was doing something, and I couldn't see what. I got the flashlight. Wait, what does she have in her mouth? Is it, OOOO NOOOOOOO. A dead.... fish? She's gotten the last one from the little pond? EEEWWWWWWW!!!
She must have sensed my complete inability to cope, because she put IT down and came when I called her. She climbed back into bed and it was then I realized that she STUNK of fish.
And so I'm here, in my office, wide awake, wondering if my boyfriend could possibly fly home and remove whatever it is from the yard and then go back to Savannah? No? Why not? If I go to sleep with miss fishbreath, I'll have to wake up and face the carrion in my back yard. And I don't think I can do that. Really.
So that's the latest from house of dog breath.
OK, I'm really tired, so I'm going to join the snoring one, the huntress who lies dreaming with blood on her snout. This is what I get for living the 'clan of the cave bear' lifestyle, sleeping wedged between three dogs stretched out all over the sandy, furry bed. So much for my inner priss. Goodnight.