Every morning I wake up because a whiny, twitchy puppy does something annoying. Actually, it's not every morning any more because we kicked the dogs out of the bed. At night, though, sometimes we forget the morning misery and we say, "sure, guys, come on in." (Like last night. Hence the bitch-fest.)

Usually Sam chews on himself. A lot. For a long time. Last week I woke up from a dream in which a set of chattering teeth were in my school books. Sometimes he'll put both paws on your face and sstttreeeettcchhh. That's John's "favorite".

And then for a solid hour after I get out of bed they both stay right under my feet. I go to the bathroom, they are right there with me. I go to the kitchen, and they follow my heels 2 inches back. I sit down and they sit on top of me. And I get grumpy. I yell at them and I don't like them, but nothing stops them from wanting to sit on me.

Except the vacuum cleaner. That makes Sam hide behind a chair and bark.