Bad dog

Ruby was a very bad dog yesterday. But it was kind of funny. We were at Julie's for dinner, which was extremely good. And the dogs played and RT took Ruby and Tigger for a walk, which actually tired Miss Ruby out, briefly.

After dinner we decided to watch a movie. "The Big Lebowski" won out over several other options, and we'd just settled down to watch it, and we gotten as far as that part where those two thugs have broken into the Dude's apartment and peed on his rug, and he's at the bowling alley talking it over with his buddies, and just as somebody says again something about the guy peeing on the rug, Ruby walks in and squats in the center of the rug and pees on it.

Life imitates art, I guess.

So Julie, bless her, patiently cleans it up and Ruby and I make a more or less discreet exit. I get home and D., the guy who lives in my carriage house, came home while Ruby and I were out in the back yard watching the fireflies. We chatted briefly, and then a pal of his showed up and they went upstairs to watch some movies or whatever it is that the kids do nowadays. Ruby and I went inside and I fell asleep fully dressed on the bed I was so tired.

At about 3:15 or so, Ruby started barking her head off. I looked outside -- nothing. I walked out into the living room and turned on the light. Ruby was still barking maniacally, jumping up on the sofa and looking out onto the porch. I turned the porch light on.

Thank goodness I still had my clothes on, because there, on the porch swing, were D. and his pal, smoking and talking quietly. I guess they didn't want to wake me up by talking and smoking in the back yard, right outside my bedroom window. Or something.

I had to drag Ruby back into the bedroom, still barking.

I guess barking at people on the porch in the middle of the night is a good thing, but I really really didn't want to hear it after we'd established the identity of the intruders.