I tried to get a photo of Mike Huckabee today and it was extremely frustrating. I had to take an article down to the newspaper office and Walt showed up in this huge black van and said he was coming with me. At some point we stopped, near Ellen and Shelly's house. Huckabee was there, talking to a woman and I thought how cool it would be to have a picture of homophobic Huckabee in front of the town's best known lesbians.
But as I tried to surreptitiously get my camera, more and more people kept coming to hear what he was saying. He was in rare form. He even pulled out a guitar and did a Johnny Cash impression.
I was trying to figure out how to turn off the flash so that he wouldn't know I was taking his picture, but even though I'd done it a number of times, in my haste to try to get it turned off, I couldn't remember which buttons to push.
I finally took a few photos, but every single time I went to take a picture, someone walked right in front of me, so all I got were pictures of half of his face or the top of his head.
He didn't seem to mind, though. He just went on talking and talking and talking, as the crowd kept getting larger. He talked so much he woke me up and I discovered I was sitting in the recliner, with Bissell in my lap like Chunk always was, and Mike Huckabee was the guest on Face the Nation. (I also remembered that just about the time I went to sleep, there was a bit about Johnny Cash on the Sunday Morning show.)
Dreams are very strange.
It's not surprising I was having weird dreams early on a Sunday morning. After our marathon floor cleaning session and the heavy Chinese meal, I had pretty much passed out in the recliner while watching something on television. It was midnight when I woke up and staggered into the couch.
So when I woke up, wide awake, and it was still dark, I wasn't upset because I had obviously had a lot of sleep. I checked the clock, without my glasses on, and saw that it was only 5 a.m. But I was wide awake, so I got up, and took Bissell (whom I had left out of the cage, since he was sleeping so soundly in the recliner) outside, hoping he'd pee (he didn't).
I came back inside and settled down to watch the Biography program about Anne Landers, which was an hour show I had recorded earlier in the week (fascinating lady, by the way!). Bissell happily snoozed in my lap. When the show was over, I checked the clock and, to my amazement saw that it was only 4:30. I don't know how I'd thought it was 5 and hour and a half earlier!
I think that, even though I was getting it in broken up segments, I probably had more sleep last night than usual--but it was a weird night.
Bissell is a funny little dog. Very skittish, especially after being attacked by Sheila last night. He only wants to live in a lap. If he can't have mine, he'll take Walt's. By 9:30 a.m. he still hadn't peed since he took off across the kitchen trailing urine behind him. I've taken him outside several times, but he only wants me to pick him up so he doesn't have to put his little paws on that cold concrete or the wet grass.
He also wouldn't eat breakfast, which is not surprising given how painful it was for him the last time.
I tried taking him into the laundry room with me and closing the door, but he was still too nervous.
He didn't eat until mid-day, when we distracted the older dogs in the living room. We eventually found a big pee puddle on the newly washed floor (sigh) (he also left some nicely formed piles, which are NOT the consistency of applesauce, which I very much appreciated!), so at least all his systems are working
He seems to have "nested." He found an old magazine, tore it into shreds at my feet, curled into a ball on top of the pieces, and has been sleeping there ever since, unless I move, when he follows me. When the other dogs come near his little nest, he barks a warning bark and they go away.
He may be little, but he seems to be fierce. Already my protector!
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