Friday, September 17, 2004

What a terrible night we all had. Finley, my fat wife, moved beds at least 5 times during the night. We have decorator dog beds all over the bedroom because my obese wife likes to luxuriate in different beds. One is a leopard fuzzy, another is a white fleece contraption, another is a giant fleece mattress for a much larger (not fatter) breed. She ended up in the big people bed (Duxiana-- thousands of springs), pinning Dad down by sprawling out over the comforter. He couldn't move and just lay there, sighing.

I had one tiny flea crawling around my ass for hours. I couldn't reach it and I think I kept Mom and Dad up for hours with my scratching. They put on the light at 6 am and combed me with the flea comb. Mom got the little bastard and killed it. But there was some residual itching.

At 6:30, Dad said he was going to kill himself.


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