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Reminder To Self: never wear the nice white shirt the day after you dye your hair an Interesting Color. Especially when you use the stuff that washes out over time.
King was a complete PITA last night. He dozed for most of the evening, but as soon as the lights went out, he realized that he wasn't tired, and if he wasn't tired, no one could be tired either. It's after 1am, I'm having a hard time falling asleep anyway, and all I can hear is the soft jingle of dog tags as King wanders through the house, with occasional breaks to stop by my room and stand in the doorway and stare his "you aren't tired, are you?" stare.
I let him outside. Let him back inside. He'd lie down for a few moments, then start to pace again. jinglejinglejingle.
Then I heard a hard crunch, and stumbled out to the living room in time to see King slouch away from the photo bucket. The photo bucket is an old wooden bucket with a padded lid that we always used to store, well, photos. I checked it out, and found that King had chewed the spot where the handle attached to the side, leaving some very nice marks in place.
I yelled. He settled down...for a few minutes. The more jinglejinglejingle. Stop by the room. "You tired?"
At 230am, I cracked and put him outside. Lest I be charged with cruelty to Kings,let me add that this is a dog who used to lie on the lawn in the rain and chew bones. A descendant of herders and hunters. A Real Dog (tm), IOW, until a life of soft cushions beckoned. A former outdoorsman.
I was awakened by barking at about 530am. Opened the door, and King bounded in like he'd been shot out of a cannon. Grabbed his heaviest bone, and played a little "Can I drop this on your foot?" before settling down to nap. Because he was tired, dammit.
I got back in bed and tried to grab a few more lovely minutes. Heard a sniffle and a rustle, which meant that it was Mickey's turn to get into the act. I let *him* out, but before I let him back in, I moved his bed out to the living room because it's the size of a small country and I can't reach my closet unless I move it. Then I let Mickey back in, at which point he starts wandering around and standing by my bed because I moved his bed too soon, dammit, and he still had some sleeping to do.
I got up. Made coffee. Mickey is sound asleep on the office cushion. King is sleeping the sleep of the just in the living room. I'm getting a massage tonight, and will likely fall asleep on the table.
King was a complete PITA last night. He dozed for most of the evening, but as soon as the lights went out, he realized that he wasn't tired, and if he wasn't tired, no one could be tired either. It's after 1am, I'm having a hard time falling asleep anyway, and all I can hear is the soft jingle of dog tags as King wanders through the house, with occasional breaks to stop by my room and stand in the doorway and stare his "you aren't tired, are you?" stare.
I let him outside. Let him back inside. He'd lie down for a few moments, then start to pace again. jinglejinglejingle.
Then I heard a hard crunch, and stumbled out to the living room in time to see King slouch away from the photo bucket. The photo bucket is an old wooden bucket with a padded lid that we always used to store, well, photos. I checked it out, and found that King had chewed the spot where the handle attached to the side, leaving some very nice marks in place.
I yelled. He settled down...for a few minutes. The more jinglejinglejingle. Stop by the room. "You tired?"
At 230am, I cracked and put him outside. Lest I be charged with cruelty to Kings,let me add that this is a dog who used to lie on the lawn in the rain and chew bones. A descendant of herders and hunters. A Real Dog (tm), IOW, until a life of soft cushions beckoned. A former outdoorsman.
I was awakened by barking at about 530am. Opened the door, and King bounded in like he'd been shot out of a cannon. Grabbed his heaviest bone, and played a little "Can I drop this on your foot?" before settling down to nap. Because he was tired, dammit.
I got back in bed and tried to grab a few more lovely minutes. Heard a sniffle and a rustle, which meant that it was Mickey's turn to get into the act. I let *him* out, but before I let him back in, I moved his bed out to the living room because it's the size of a small country and I can't reach my closet unless I move it. Then I let Mickey back in, at which point he starts wandering around and standing by my bed because I moved his bed too soon, dammit, and he still had some sleeping to do.
I got up. Made coffee. Mickey is sound asleep on the office cushion. King is sleeping the sleep of the just in the living room. I'm getting a massage tonight, and will likely fall asleep on the table.
