Using my soothing and calm voice that I save for bedtime stories, I told the dogs that I was going to kick them like footballs. I would hold them between outstretched hands and just kick.

Why?

Lily jumped up and dragged a heavy claw down my thigh. She left behind a red rug burn surrounded by what looks like powdered purple eye shadow.

Ozzy barks at night. Once. At nothing. Again. At nothing.

Hershey and Lily go in circles trying to hump each other. Lily wraps her front paws around Hershey and her feet are tapping like a drummer's. Bandit has been OK.

It's hot out and he sits down under his thick fur and waits for the humidity to pass.

I woke this morning and listened to a glass bottle bounce against the bottom of a plastic recycle bin again and again. Rotten neighbors. Don't they know? Fill first, carry to curb second.

What day is this?

I can't stay awake long enough to push through all the foggy stuff between here and the end of this sentence.