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Did you know a dachshund can run thirty miles an hour, even under heavy blankets, given the proper stimulus? I stuck my feet up against his tummy, and that was the last time I could catch him. Finally, I cornered him up against Patty's legs, and the next thing I heard were low growls and teeth snapping. Hmmm.
Next I put them up against Patty, but that didn't last long.
I looked around in the dark for more blankets or something and saw Willoughby lying on the foot of the bed. So I called, "Kitty, kitty, kitty," until he finally got close enough to grab him. Quickly I thrust him beneath the covers and attempted to put my feet on his tummy. That's when he bit my big toe, causing me to snatch my foot back and kick Patty in the buttocks (bew-tocks, as Ensign Pulver says) with a large block of ice (foot will be understood, in this case) and causing her to jump off onto the floor. My, she has an extensive vocabulary. Potty-mouth.
Anyway, she went stomping off downstairs--to break some dishes, she said--but she did pause long enough to pull the covers back down over my feet. I was asleep when she came back to bed, although I did keep one eye open just in case she was plotting retaliation.
Editor's note:
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