Ray was in my studio trying to get into the closet again. I had finally caved-in and given him one of his Christmas presents, the shrink-wrapped rib bone, just to keep him out of my room. But now, of course, he thinks that the closet is the Pez dispenser of rib bones. I could hear him give a brief whine then wander down the hall to our bedroom.
SCRATCH; he wanted in.
"Go to bed Ray," said Gregg.
Ray gave a deep sigh. No bone and not allowed to sleep with us. I heard him sadly walk to the futon outside our room where he settled himself in.
Life is so hard for the poor, lonely, blind dog.