Saturday, November 28, 2009

Rookie mistake

1 a.m., settling in to finally sleep. Trying to get comfortable, wrestle covers from the dog, scootch 60-pounds of snoring dead weight out my space.

Felt something odd under my back. Round. Rubber. Tossed it out of bed. Thump.

Ball! In an instant he was full-on awake, sat up to consider the sound, the jumped out of bed to find the ball. Ball!

Rooted around for five minutes in the dark trying to find it, ignoring pleas to "Come!"

Finally, after a strange shuuuuushing, cascading sound, I gave up and turned on the light. The way the closet is designed, you (meaning if you are the size of a toddler or a pit bull) can walk in one set of closet doors and out the other. There's a bit of wall in between

1:07 a.m. Everything was quiet, still and in it's place. You could see Hathaway's head in one set of closet doors, his tail sticking out the other set. He looked up with a sheepish grin, lime green rubber ball in his mouth, then came back to bed.

Back in my spot, I turned out the light, told him to drop it and tossed the ball out of the bed ...

No comments:

Post a Comment