Last night, living large after putting in a full shift, I decided to watch episodes 8 and 9 of, The Pacific. For some reason (useless playoff hockey), I'd fallen behind and needed to catch up. This means that I stayed up until 2 AM with the thought that I'd sleep in until at least 9.
Leo had other plans.
He awakens me each morning by walking all around me on the bed. The tempur-pedic foils his effort at bouncing, but he awakens me none the less--usually when he finds a kidney with his paw and steps on it. He wanted to go out, and he wanted to eat. After beginning his whining and yippy-yodeling (he sings), I threw off the blankets and took him to the door where we could both see that it's pouring rain this morning. He tried to dig in his feet, but I shoved him out anyways.
The sloth peed on the deck. Under the overhang. God forbid he should get wet.
He came in, snarfed up his kibble and I tried to go back to sleep. This is the point where he really started yipping and yapping at me. He wanted me up. So I made coffee, turned on the TV, and the brat went and crawled into his crate to sleep.
What the hell?
He's all cozy in there and I'm awake.