He should be ashamed

Sorry folks, no Friday Confessions this week.  I was exceptionally well-behaved.

But I did want to mention an incident that makes me shake my head in amazement:

Tuesday night Corey lost Oliver.

Not as in roaming the cold streets, but in our bedroom.

See, we have a nightly routine.  I go to bed first, turn down Corey's side of the covers then Oliver jumps up and we snuggle until I fall asleep.  Or until Oliver rolls over (ugh, men).  Then Corey comes in, O-dog jumps down and falls asleep on Corey's side of the bed.

Always.

Unless the dog comes back on the bed.  Next to Corey.

(Aunt Cindy, before you think we're allowing a big, smelly, dirty dog on your beautiful quilt let me first say we only allow Oliver on the sheets.  There are two layers of stuff between your masterpiece and O's stank.)

So, Tuesday night was a back on the bed night.

Except Corey forgot.

He wakes up in the middle of the night.  Does a little stretch and looks over to where he expects to find the dog.  Only he's not there.

A tad perplexed, he calls for him, "Oliver?  Oliver-dog?"

There was a rustle under the covers.

"Oliver...is that you?"

Corey lifts them up and finds an eyeball looking at him. 

The dog was snuggled right up against him the entire time.

I'm not quite sure this man should have children.

But he will.