All the boys are sleeping, in various stages of snore. Actually, it's only Reuben that's a snorer now. Little Mr. Froggy Mouth. Shecky does an occasional intake snort or two and M is pretty much snore-free now. This is huge, people. He was a regular snorer, the loud kind that incite commercials, outside-the-nose products, kicking, or holding a pillow four inches above the face.
Santa got us a king-size bed and boy, are we happy! Last night, we talked about getting three more dogs and what that would be like. "One could go here," I said, indicating a good-sized circle by my knees, "one maybe here and one here." We're getting greedy or just crazy. Five? Come on.
Earlier, I had visited a couple Boston Terrier rescue websites and quickly had to leave them. Heartbreaking. A few puppies, mostly adults and a few seniors that are adorable and waiting for homes. For circles on beds.
We really can't have more dogs here. Two is the limit. And when we discussed what taking care of five dogs would really be like, we knew it was ridiculous. We have a leash now that straps around the waist, leaving the walker hands free. It's quite convenient, but still leads to the occasional alamande left or full turn right with just two dogs. Having five attached to some such leash would be like a planet found by the U.S.S. Enterprise. So many orbiting planets wreaking havoc on the gravitational force...
Shecky just whimpered a bit. He must be dreaming. He seems to have this kind of whimper-dream at least a couple of times a week. We imagine what he is dreaming about. A treat being held inches out of his reach? His brother nipping at one of his chicken-little back legs? Being pup-napped and taken from his loving family? A few long strokes along his smooth and shiny coat and whispering, "It's okay" seems to shed the nightmare and he returns to contented sighing.
I'll leave for work soon. Shecky will know from my movements what is about to happen. It's a familiar back and forth to the bathroom, closet, kitchen, then the sounds of the blender, the keys. He'll nuzzle and show me belly all morning until he hears those keys. Then, nothing. I go over to kiss everyone goodbye and get kisses from M and Ruby. But Shecky? He turns his head away as if to say, "Go woman, leave me, but you will not get a smooch from me. Now, go!" And I leave, unsmooched by the Sheck.
Ah, Monday.
