Oba is gone back to North Carolina, and even the inmates can feel the change in the air. Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, is piled into the one king-sized bed, which resembles an insane game of canine Tetris. You know that strip of stitching that circumnavigates the top edge of the mattress? I’ve always wondered as to its purpose, and tonight it was revealed to me: it was designed with me in mind, to be gripped firmly between my butt cheeks as the last line of defense before I plummet to the floor below.
Does Marco care? Noooo… he’s wedged between my legs like I’m dilated to five and fighting the urge to push. Charlie? I think you know the answer to that; tonight, she has her white paws planted firmly against the side of my head, with Claire occupying the area off of the east coast south of my equator. Ajax is on his pillow, but waiting for the slightest opening to pounce and snake his reptilian tongue far enough down my gullet to determine what I had for lunch yesterday.
Mia and Titus are piled up on mom, for now at least, but that has been known to change at least four times before morning, so I’m not feeling too sanguine about my chances concerning being unmolested by them.
So that leave the proverbial elephant in the room, Victor the Horse Dog. I haven’t seen him around tonight, but that means absolutely nothing. The big lug evidently possesses the power to pass through walls like a hairy ninja, so I fully expect to receive as predawn Godfather-like visit from a horse head making me an offer I can’t refuse.
It’s always a slumber party at the Casa del Whackos!
