a dialogue in dog
“Hey, Gus, I’m getting sick of wrestling on the bed next to Mom. How can we wake her up?”
“I don’t know; it’s remarkable she’s been able to sleep at all while we’ve been so obnoxious.”
“Hey, I know, let’s get under the covers and bite her ass!”
“Great idea, Fawn!”
This is the rough sequence of events for my morning. Now, of course, that I’ve been up for ten minutes, Gus is sleeping on my pillow, and fawn is quietly playing with a ball at the foot of the bed.
But from nine am until noon it was wrestle-fucking mania. And to confirm any confusion they were both biting me on the ass. At the same time.
