Goofy woke me up this morning with some discrete whining and gentle taps with her paw.
Note I share the bedroom with my husband and the dog is not stupid. Do not wake the sleeping giant. “What are you doing, dog! It’s the middle of the night, and I need my sleep! I have a big case tomorrow!” It was still dark, but I looked at my phone just to check the time: it was 6:15, four minutes after my alarm was supposed to go off. I’d checked the alarm was set before I went to sleep, but in checking it I must have turned it off somehow. So, she saved me! I had a huge case in private today, lots of preparation and then a night in ICU to allow the deepest parts of someone’s brain to be exposed to the bright lights and cold air of an operating theatre for six hours. So, Goofy is in my good books, even though I’m sure she’ll do the same thing on Saturday morning when I absolutely deserve a sleep in which I can see I will not get.
Catdog, meanwhile, is achieving this:
and also this:
