Dearest, I know I've told you that I live in a three-dog household. And I adore them all, really, I do. My wee beastie, Tuppence Marie, is a little demon spawn, but she's my baby. Maddie Mae, the thirteen year old Pillow That Eats, has wormed her way into my heart. Now if she would only scoot over in my bed.
And then there's Bailey. Beagle Bailey.
He's Roommate's dog, primarily. Oh, sure, when I'm on the couch and he wants under my blanket, he completely forgets who his mama is, but he loves Roommate. And she loves him. And I love Mr. B, too, despite his propensity for stealing and eating used Kleenex and dirty underwear.
But last night, neither Roommate nor I were feeling love for the beagle.
Bailey spent the majority of the evening driving Roommate nutso. While I was safely occupied by my hideous job, Bailey was acting like someone had slipped speed into his kibble. Itching, scratching, itching, scratching, racing around the house, bow-WOOOOing at the top of his lungs. Not his usual snuggly, couch-potato self.
Naturally, Bailey needed a bath to ease whatever irritation he'd found for his pink and bumpy skin. And if the boy gets a bath, the girls get baths. NO ONE was happy about this.
Btw, when dogs get baths, one person does the job in my house. Here's a hint. It's not Roommate.
So the dogs were bathed and it was late and Roommate and I retired to our respective chambers for an abbreviated night's sleep. Until quarter to one. That's when Roommate opened the door to my room and asked me to help her.
Bailey had been unwell. In Roommate's bed.
I will not inflict the details on you, dear one. I like you too much. I can tell you this, however; it was better than last week. Last week, when Bailey was sick in Roommate's bed, then under Roommate's bed, then in MY bed, then under my bed. Yes, he was The Incredible Barfing Beagle.
So Roommate and I didn't get a lot of sleep and even when we did go to bed--AGAIN--Bailey was still squirrelly. Which, for a beagle, is very conflicting.
We're both exhausted. And jealous of the fact that the dogs all got plenty of sleep when we went back to work. And we have a boatload of laundry. And everything needs to be steam cleaned.
Rotten little beast.
Anybody want a beagle? He's going cheap.