Friday, September 4, 2015

Sleeping with the Enemy And Missing Tomatoes

How the heck do two tomatoes disappear? Husband is adamant that he did not eat them. Although, interestingly enough, I had mentioned to him only an hour or so before that those particular two tomatoes needed to be eaten today.  Hmmmmm....draw your own conclusions.

I just read an article about how sleep deprived so many people are because they let their dogs sleep with them. I ain't talking about little fluff dogs. I'm talking about Labs, bulldogs, GREAT DANES, and the like. 

When we rescued our Boxer, Buster, from the dump, the first thing he did (after he got home from the vet to make sure he wouldn't give our Boxer, Sam, any diseases or parasites) was to make a beeline for the foot of our bed. And he wouldn't budge. It took both Husband and myself to push and grunt until he got down. Then he did it again, repeatedly for several days.

Obviously, at some point, before he was tied with a rope and nearly starved to death, he had been treated quite well. In fact, the vet said he had been by several evident things when he examined him.

Anyway, it was hard to break him from bounding on the bed and curling up, but we did it.

When we got Molly, our American Bulldog, the first night she (and I ain't making this up) levitated from the bathroom to the foot of our bed. At the time, Daughter and I were watching a DVD and were quite surprised to find a 95 pound visitor in our midst. 

Took several nights to break her from this, convincing her she had a nice soft bed of her own, right by ours.

No offense, but I don't see how anyone in their right mind could possibly sleep with a dog. I mean, who has room in the bed for a dog with all those cats taking up every spare inch?

Anyway, back to the tomatoes: Don't think for a  minute Daughter ate them, she HATES tomatoes with the passion of a thousand burning suns. But she loves tomato soup, tomato sauce, ketchup...you get the picture.

I've looked in the garbage, I looked off the back porch where we throw peelings, I've looked everywhere. Where oh where did they go?

Film at eleven. Unless we are in the bed trying to sleep with fifty pounds of cat.



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