I just want to tell whoever fed my dog speed before bed last night (and I have no doubt you're reading this, person) to go straight to hell.

At about 12:15, after I had witnessed her sleeping soundly in the basement, Lucy, a.k.a. The World's Fattest Dog, came bounding into my room, crashing through the closed door, tail wagging and feet seemingly attached to springs. I had no problem with this, as I was finishing reading about Harry's fourth year trials and tribulations. (Crouch's son - who the hell would have guessed it!? This Rowling lady is a genius!) However, when I was ready to go to be 15 minutes later and Dog was rammy as ever, I got a little grumpy. I brought her outside. I gave her a treat. I gave her fresh water. She didn't want any of that though. She just wanted to sleep on my head.

I will never - NEVER - again complain about a ten- (okay, maybe thirteen) pound cat resting one soft, furry leg on my face while I try to sleep. It sure as hell beats The World's Fattest Dog with a wagging tail and dripping panting tongue. Why was she panting anyway? It was 35 bloody degrees outside! Sure, I pushed her off me, but she hopped right back on my chest, inched higher and higher, pretending to get comfotable, nearing my head with her painful elbows and lethal, unclipped claws until my face was either covered with dog or pillow and I couldn't breathe.

Finally I threw up my arms and took her back outside, where she stood on the deck for about a minute and then I let her back in. She stood in the rain and enjoyed it, which she has never done before, came back in, dragged ass downstairs and went to sleep, as if to say, "Oh, okay, it's raining. I can sleep now." What in the hell?

I didn't think much of it and quickly fell asleep. It was, after all, past 1:30. I slept like a dead person until 2:51 (I checked the clock), when I heard, and no doubt incorporated into my dreams, the sound of a large dog barrelling through my bedroom door. I tried to ignore her, which was easy at first considering the sleepiness I was dealing with, but before long she was on my bed again, flopping her big, dumb body over my face. It wasn't funny any more. I had laughed at first, two and a half hours earlier, but now any and all humor value had faded away. I got up, let her outside where she AGAIN stood on the deck looking in the house for a couple of minutes. Then she came in and went downstairs to sleep again.

When I came out of my room at 10:30 this morning, she was lying on the floor in the kitchen, looking at me with her ears perked and her tail wagging. Bitch.