“Don’t be mad at her,” Mary cautioned, “after all, she’s an old dog and it was an accident.”
“I know, I know, and I’m not mad at her,” I answered though she hadn’t asked a question.
Mary turned on her bedside light right after I had turned my light off. I’d been up about ten minutes cleaning the mess our eldest dog had made of our bed.
As for her part, Mary had left to go sleep in the other room; my snoring keeping her awake. So when I found her gone, it was a bit disorienting.
“So why are you so upset?” Mary finally asked, getting down to the nitty-gritty.
“Because I heard her whining and when I rolled over to see what was up, I put my hand in it and you weren’t here,” I responded as nicely as I could.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Mary said, adding after a brief pause, “Well, try to get some sleep.”
She didn’t have to repeat herself when it came to that last statement. I was already well on my way to slumber-land the second she clicked off her lamp.
A minute or so later I heard Mary ask, “Did you take her outside?”
Inadvertently, I harumphed and answered, “No. She already shit in the bed and I figured I didn’t need to take her out.”
I must have fallen asleep immediately because after that Mary woke me up as she climbed back in bed, telling me, “Don’t worry, I took her out.”
“I’m not,” I quietly answered as I drifted back into sleep.