Last night, Jerry and a few of his friends went to a Mushroom Head metal show. I knew at least the couch would be filled when I woke up this morning and apparently so did Toby.
At 6:30 a.m. when Toby felt he wanted to be let outside, he shoved his front paws into my teeth and yawned his huge trap right around the bridge of my nose, alerting me to his decision.
But when I opened the bedroom door, instead of rolling around on the carpet for a few minutes and checking to see that all of his limbs are functioning properly like he usually does, Toby shot down the front stairwell, also unusual considering we use the back stairwell to get to the back door so he can run in the back yard.
When I rounded the corner, I found out why. There was Toby standing directly on the chest of our guest, Voz, head bowed, staring intently into his face.
"Hi Toby," Voz managed in a groggy fog.
"Oh hell Voz, I'm so sorry!" I said, flying down the steps to pluck Toby off his otherwise would-be-sleeping body.
And as I carried my overly inquisitive dog to the back door, I couldn't help but think that the situation would've been much funnier if I had gotten a chance to don Toby with the purple fuzzy bunny ears I have laying around somewhere.