My boyfriend, Gary's, elbow is gently resting on my nose.
Max, the beagle, is nestled against my chest, snoring abrasively.
Crimson, the retriever, is splayed awkwardly across our feet.
JD, the old lab, is standing dangerously close to the edge of the bed, panting desperately and wishing he could see well enough to jump off.
And I, the lone female, am jabbing Gary in the ribs in a hopeless attempt at waking him up to help JD down and remove his elbow from my nose while simultaneously trying to kick Crimson off my feet and widen Max's nostrils.
Oh the joys of having children! I mean dogs...
My mom is always sending little gifts to my nieces and nephews. One day she said to me, "I realize I've been neglecting your children."
"Uh, I don't have children," I responded.
"Your canine children! I'll send them some treats."
I had to laugh and agree that they are my children. They drive me crazy, but I love them regardless. That's what kids do to their parents right?