My last post may have inadvertently given the impression that Drive is outdoorsy and athletic. Here is the truth. That boy loves his pillows as much as he loves his kibble.
Most times, my husband and I sleep in the bed by ourselves, although once in a while exceptions are made. I'm too light a sleeper to tolerate the constant sleep-racing and vocal dreams all of our dogs seem to indulge in.
So the dogs sleep in the living room, perhaps 15 feet from the bedroom. (Small house, I've told you.) And in the morning when the baby gate is released after everyone has had a morning pee, Drive and Lanie streak for the bed. Most mornings, Drive gets there before I'm ready to make it.
As his reward, I don't move him.
In spite of my good intentions to post more frequently, it was a busy, fretful weekend at our house. Lanie was in fine shape Friday morning, and by Friday evening it was apparent she was quite ill. I will spare you the details, but we're still cleaning the living room rug. We watched her all weekend and thought frantically about what she could have gotten into. She's quite the counter surfer and trash picker. In the end, she's now pooping normally and hasn't projectile vomited in a day so we're calling her "all better!" and assuming the culprit was an apple core -- the only thing I can imagine she got into.