Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Comatose Ray

It was 6 p.m. It had been a long day. I called Gregg at home "Can you pick up Ray?" I asked. "I'm just leaving work now." 
"Sure," he replied. "I just got home myself, but I can get him."
Just as I got home and was getting out of the car, Gregg and Ray pulled up. "He had a good time at daycare," said Gregg, "Apparently he played with two huskies all day." 
We all went into the house together. Gregg immediately pulled out the dog food to fill up the dish. I walked out into the backyard with Ray who was announcing our arrival. Gregg and I briefly discussed dinner while Ray ate. We decided on a menu and Gregg prepped while I took Ray for a walk around the block.
By the time dinner was ready, Ray was asleep in my spot on the couch, curled up on an afghan. Gregg and I grabbed opposite corners and picked him up. We airlifted him to his bed while I made helicopter noises with my mouth. Ray never moved, even when we brought our porkchops to the table and ate dinner.
"That's one comatose dog," said Gregg.
"Must have been the huskies," I replied.

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