I am dead tired. I got up this morning at seven, and walked first Chandler, and then Sasha, around the block. Then I took the car up to the mechanic and walked the half mile back from there. That was followed by my stint as dog walker at Abandoned Pet Rescue, where I walked six different dogs, each a half mile. I know, 'waa, waa, waa, quit your whining'. It isn't actually all that walking that is the reason I'm so tired. The walking simply pointed out how beat I am. I'm tired because I have two dogs who think they are equal beings living in this house.
Every evening it is like a race to see who gets the good spot in bed. As soon as I begin turning off lights it starts. First it's Sasha grabbing her place on my pillow, then Chandler jumps on the bed, and curls up into a large ball. Finally Mark lays his skinny ass down. By the time I get everything turned off, the doors locked, and head for the bed, there is about four feet by three inches of room left for me. I can usually get them all to jump off, except for Mark, by yelling 'chewy strip'. I then have about ten seconds between the time I throw them chewy strips and the time they retrieve them, to get comfortable in bed. Last night Chandler beat me back, and Sasha simply crawled on top of my head later. I know I should show the dogs who's boss, and last night I did. I pushed Chandler over towards Mark, and told him to move it. For this I got a snarl, and bared teeth. I immediately gave him a slap on the snout, and bawled him out, "We don't ever snap at daddy. Bad dog!". He showed some fear, and hurt feelings, but he did move. I almost at once felt guilty. I had slapped my best friend (He's my best friend because he doesn't shop and clutter the house.) in the face. So of course later, when he nudged me over with his big paws, I gave him the space, and I ended up trying to sleep on that three inches of mattress anyway. Just for the record, I am looking into a king size bed.