Honestly...

Today's off to a brilliant start. I pretty much didn't sleep more than fits and starts last night for some reason, starting at about midnight. What was supposed to be an awesome 4 day weekend has hit a brick wall, thanks to my very cute and incredibly challenged chihuahua, Maxwell.

So just as the sun begins to rise and make sleeping that much more difficult, I'm able to doze off, albeit with lame dreams about vampires for some reason. Meanwhile, I've got Max and Baillie climbing all over me, and I'm trying desperately to keep them still and on my side of the bed, so as not to disturb Keith. Keith's not a real big fan of Max, maybe not Baillie either, but you know how it goes if you're a pet owner. Love me, love my pets. Or at least tolerate them to a reasonable degree. Dogs pick up on all kinds of emotional bs though. Max knows Keith doesn't necessarily relish the idea of his existence. I'm a nervous wreck whenever I stay at Keith's, and normally, if we were at my place, these guys have been sleeping in their dog beds, but I don't want them having the run of his house overnight, all things considered. Max can be a little bastard, and the last thing I need is him lifting his leg on some piece of furniture out of spite while we sleep. Although truly, that would have been preferable to how this morning played out.

No joke, as I'm laying there dreaming about lame vampires around 7:30 this morning, I hear this little noise; it sounds a bit like running water. Wait a minute- WHAT? I open my eyes and Max is peeing on Keith's bed. No shit. Talk about mortifying. My first instinct was to yell, but Ellie was asleep in the room next door. I scoop him up and bring him outside, tie him up, and grab the paper towels. Thankfully, it wasn't much, but I guess after a dog pees on your bed, the fact that "it wasn't much" is besides the point. Meanwhile, Baillie looks absolutely terrified. He's just sitting up in the bed next to Keith's nonresponsive form.

"Ummm... I'm gonna take these guys home. Max just peed in your bed." He doesn't move or say a word, so I'm wondering if he even heard me, although I'm sure he did, because let's face it... he's got a trembling dog next to him and some crazy half awake chick with a big wad of paper towels blotting up dog urine from his sheet and mattress. So I motion to Baillie that it's time to hit the road; I lean over and plant a kiss on Keith's cheek and by way of goodbye, I murmur, "You're going to kill Max next time you see him, aren't you?"

"Yes."

And away we go.

It's been about three hours since our hasty exit. And while I don't think my boyfriend really plans on execting my dog next time he sees him, there will certainly be some extra tension. I caan hardly wait. Oh well. I'm off to buy some "Nature's Miracle" and take care of damage control.