Life for dogs in October was spent working. Dublin spent all day hiding under my side of the bed with nothing but his juicy, black, snub nose poking out, worried that all my kidney-related moaning was a sign for him to comfort. Good Boy. LuLu (who cannot take a good picture), calculated her bed snuggling technique. As soon as Daddy or Grandma would leave the room, she'd jump back on and keep my feet warm. She tolerated all of my thrashing and sweating and cursing. Whatta Girl, even if I did have to roll around in her dirt and smell her farts. Boz did his best to comfort, though he's more of a taker than a giver. He would sit near enough to the bed in a picture perfect beg and whine, as though asking, "I see your hurting very much and though I'd like to help, I'm curious as to why you aren't trying to reach down and pet me. I mean, I AM The Boz. You know this, the stinky one knows this and the she-horse, she knows this too... what gives Lady."
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