Maybe it was the cold, wet sloppy weather yesterday. The Pack didn't want to hang out at the park for very long and seemed more than happy to get back into the nice warm canine assault vehicle (the van). It might have been all the fun and excitement of having a bunch of other dogs to play with and a great big box of chew toys. Maybe it was the moon. It's hard to say why it started. But it started early, much too early and old Mr. Rex was the first to notice. It must have jarred him awake from a sound sleep because he was in no mood for it. He gave it his best, authoritative bark to demand calm and make it stop. But it was too late - it had started and it began to take on a life of it's own. When it moved up the stairs, old Keeway harumphed and let out a long, low growl. I opened one eye and saw 4 little heads staring anxiously at me. "Oh thank goodness, you're awake."
I threw my slippers on and wandered downstairs where I found Rex standing on his bed. "Good, you're up, maybe you can make it stop." That's when I noticed it was still pitch black outside and something was terribly wrong. But it was too late, the pack was already thundering down the stairs behind me. "Woo - Hoo! Playtime! Throw the ball, throw the ball!" Rex laid down with a loud harrumph. "Tell the young ones to settle down and go back to sleep, I'm not ready to get up and whatever you do, do
not throw that ball." He was right, of course. I went back to bed and tried to ignore it. Today we are going for a long, long walk.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone!
