I want to be a dog, preferably my dog. Instead of taking mass transit to my windowless bunker I call my office, I want to be able to sleep on a king size bed. When I'm tired of the king size bed, I want to move to the living room and sleep on the couch. When I’m done with that, I can waddle over for a sip of cool filtered water and then move to the foyer and sleep in my warm fleece dog bed.
This morning P-man decided that he’d stay in his dog bed as long as possible. The rattling of leashes did not bring him out of his snuggly state. I had to put his collar on while he was still in bed all curled up in a C shape. This is not an easy feat since the collar I use is a harness contraption that goes under his belly and around to his neck. Standing at the open door holding his leash connected to his collar, I finally get him out of his bed with the words, “I’m closing the door with the leash in my hand. You can come or deal with the ramifications.” He slowly steps out of his bed and teasingly does his full body stretch then shakes and waddles towards me. Sorry to inconvenience you, Sire. However, if you do not go now, you must wait until your servants come home in the afternoon.