Dear Kid,
The Puppy has a new game. It’s called Barking At Bedtime.
Actually, it’s called Whining At Bedtime, but that has no alliterative appeal at all (see how I did that?).
I don’t know why he’s taken up whining, but he has.
If there were an Olympic sport for whining, he’d be the gold medalist.
Or possibly the world-famous coach everyone wants to work with.
The Puppy is an endurance whiner. His whine is soft and subtle but annoyingly persistent. It’s not something I’ve figured out how to turn off or ignore.
And it goes on at great length (and by “great length” I mean about 40 minutes, which seems longer than you can even begin to imagine because we’re talking about a high-pitched puppy whine).
Which makes it hard to watch reruns of NCIS and write blogs.
Which is why this is later than usual.
Love ya, kiddo.
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