It's 2 AM and I'm Awake, I think

Sometimes, after waking in the middle of the night--as was the case this morning--and deciding that I might as well urinate while I'm up, I don't return to bed. This is because my wife takes advantage of my absence and sprawls her slumbering body across the mattress. Rather then readjust her to the proper sleeping position so that I, too, can fit, I go downstairs and ponder how this new day will treat me.

Such is the case this morning. My two dogs are sleeping in their crates. We really don't need crates. The Beagle is four and the Wheaten Terrier is three. Both are house-broken so the crates are never locked. They just prefer to sleep in their crates so the crates remain like two little houses within a larger house because the dogs want it that way. There are two doggy beds located outside their crates which they take advantage of when it comes to quick, daytime naps, but the crates serve as their overnight residence.

These crates are four feet long and two and a half feet wide and sit between a walnut end table and an overstuffed leather chair. If we ever hired an interior decorator she'd have a difficult time fitting these kennels into any kind of harmonius scheme--a Feng Shui designer would take one look at them and reconsider her father's offer to manage his Chinese restaurant.

So, I'm sitting on the couch, awake, but still under some influence of Morpheus, when the Beagle waddles out of his crate. He sits and stares at me. The Wheaten follows suit. I know if I ignore them they'll not bother me for a bit. Both turn away and start slowly stretching their bodies. They're almost in unison--like some kind of doggy Tai Chi class.

This doesn't last long. They're back to sitting and staring at me. Now, this probably didn't happen exactly the way I'm about to explain it, but keep in mind that as much as I was upright and moving, I was probably still asleep.

I knew what the two of them were thinking, "He's awake; therefore, he should open the back door so we can either pee or sniff around the backyard...or both."

"No way," I thought. With that I began to explain why. I know that's silly, but be honest, you do it too.

"It's two AM. Just because I'm up it doesn't mean I'm gonna let you out."

The Beagle was first, "What? You think we can tell time? You're up; what's the difference?"

Too sleepy to be startled by his sudden acquisition of speech, I said, "Because at this ungodly hour you both should be sleeping."

The Wheaten: So, why are you up?

Me: Because my wife hogs the bed. I don't have the luxury of owning a
crate of my own.

Beagle: C'mon, just five minutes outside.

Me: Ah ha! You can tell time!

Beagle: No. You just call us in five minutes.

Me: Since when do you guys come when I call?

Wheaten: Four minutes?

With that I hustled them into their crates and locked them in. I vaguely remember the Beagle whispering to the Wheaten--something like, "The next time let me do all the talking."

As much as couches are wide they're never wide enough between the arms to prevent your head from burrowing into one of them. I then slept...I think.