As you’ve probably noticed, Shasta has decided that my bed is his bed, which is fine. I haven’t had a dog-teddy-bear since Lucky.
Someone asked if Shasta ‘talks’ which I did not realize was a Husky trait, but he does, sometimes quite a bit.
He also likes to extend his paws fully while sleeping on his side to make sure that all 4 of them are touching me at all times.
Last night was one of the few times he has woken me up.
At first I thought he might be having a dream…
…but then I thought he might be in pain.
So I turned on the light…
And this is what I saw:
If it’s not the claws it’s the bony butt wedged up against my leg. You realize there is plenty of room on this bed for both of us, right?
almost forgot: least favorite thing? Getting out of my car just in time to see the pasty redneck dude in a beat-up pick-up pull his shirt over his head. I’m not sure why he was doing that, but I looked away before the image was burned into my head. When I came out, e truck was still there, and the tinted windows were rolled up. I don’t want to know.
Also, I set the dishwasher to run while we were gone. When we came back it hadn’t finished running, and I said to it, “really? You aren’t done yet? How long do you take, anyway?”. It didn’t reply, but I think it could sense my disappointment.
I just sneezed, and from The Boy’s room I heard “bless you!” I guess someone is still reading. It is 11:20. He asked me yesterday if I mind if he reads when he can’t sleep. I said no. Also, he asked if Lucky could sleep with him tonight, so he’s in there too. It’s about the most adorable thing ever.
Ps - speaking of puppies, everyone send good thoughts to Jennifer and Maddox!
2:00 a.m. — go to bed, looking forward to sleeping in because The Boy is on spring break and so I have to work from home.
8:50 a.m. — wake up with (I’m 99% sure) a tick crawling on my leg, Lucky asleep next to me.
9:20 a.m. — Lucky is outside, howling his foolish head off
9:22 a.m. — I go outside and call Lucky to come in.
9:24 a.m. — Lucky comes in… absolutely drenched in lake water
9:25 a.m. —
Your mother comes home tomorrow. Maybe she’ll let you out. Meanwhile, I’d be very quiet for the rest of the day if you know what’s good for you.