The Lineman has been whining. A lot.  He knows when the babies are in our bedroom, he cannot come in.  He sits by the door and cries these huge dog tears that leave his face all wet.  He’s accustomed to sleeping in the bed with us, curling up next to me, wherever he can find a spot.  I wouldn’t have that now, though, with the babies in and out of our bed.  We tried locking him in his little “home” in our bedroom, but the poor thing was miserable.  So Linus and his home were moved out of our room into the downstairs office, where he’s with people all day.  At first we ignored the barking.  This didn’t work for any of us.  Eventually Linus settled down, basically moped a lot, and agreed to sleep downstairs, curled into himself, the original sweet bean.

I sleep with a mitt on my face.  And lately, when I sleep, I sleep deeply because my body is limp exhausted.  I sleep through the babies cries until somehow they wake me up, eventually.  The other night, Phil and I finally got to sleep, and when I awoke, I was cuddling with Linus!  The sneaky sneaky dog escaped from the downstairs office, crept his way upstairs, and even though he should know better, he entered our room and hopped onto the bed!  Into my arms!  And I loved every minute of it!  God, I love that little moo shoo pork dog.  I startled Phil awake.
“How did he do that?” he asked.
“He’s one sneaky sneaky dog.  I think we underestimated his sneakiness,” I say in a Spanish accent.  Then I make Linus leave, even though I want him to stay.

He leaves for Montana in two weeks, where he will be loved and live in the bed with my sister, where he’ll get far too much attention for any dog, where his sneaky muscle and springs body will be missed by his mama.