Spike is rarely short on words. He's a talker.
(He knows this. It's not news to anyone.)
But last week was looooong. Because of the weather, he went to work Sunday evening instead of early Monday morning. And then instead of getting home Friday evening like he usually does, it was about 2 PM Saturday when he rolled into town.
So Sunday morning he was still a little fried. For the most part he said two words.
First - after letting him sleep as long as possible, I snuck in to ever-so-nicely tell him it was time to get up. Before I managed to say a word, this plaintive, muffled voice came from under the pillow - "Nooooo."
Made me giggle.
And second - as we were almost out the door, running late. He glanced over at me, paused for a second, and then commented, "Smokin'."
Which is still making me smile today.
