3:26 a.m.

A noise wakes me and I assume it is Paul. But instantly I realize it is the 27 pound French bulldog who is sleeping next to me. And snoring like a man. I roll over and put the pillow over my head. Then I put a pillow over her head. Then I begin to negotiate (in my head)... if she snores 1 more time I will kick her out. Just 1 more time. Just 1 more time. Hells bells.

"Tophie, Tophie, where's Stella? Don't you want to see Stella? (Like a good dog, Stella was snoring in the living room.) Crate time (all said in a sing song voice)..." She just looks at me and rolls over. Now I'm on my knees in front of the bed trying again, "Come on, Tophie, let's go see Stella!" Nada. (By the way, her real name is Sophie but over the years it has metamorphosed into Tophie.)

In the end, I did what any alpha personality in a house of pups does. I picked her up, put her on the living room floor and shut the door. Who's the boss?!