It's nearly 3 o'clock in the morning and my pooch and I are playing "Bet You'll Never Guess What I'm Trying to Say to You." I've rearranged all her beds, turned on a fan in case she needed more air circulation (and to veil some of the noises that might be waking her), taken her down our three flights of stairs to go outside—where she wouldn't step off the porch, fed her a little in case those tummy rumblings she had going were hunger pangs rather than digestive troubles—yet she's still fretting about something.
Last night was the same story, only I think the cause of her nighttime pacing had more to do with our new night-owl neighbors.
Tonight, I've no idea what she wants me to do for her. But tomorrow I think I'll set up a bathroom just for her, with doggie pads. And Monday I'll make an appointment for her with the "Hippie Dippie" doctor (as a friend of mine reverently calls the healer). Maybe we'll also appeal to an animal communicator to help us figure out how to get some sleep during the night.
Ah! Now the pooch is resting. But she's making some strange noises, too. Do I dare try to return to my bed? Or do I just wait for the next round of "Bet You'll Never Guess What I'm Trying to Say to You"?
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