Ode to Dad and Dog

I admit, on more than one occasion, I have gotten on my husband’s case about not waking up in the middle of the night when Eli cries. 

However, last night somewhere around 4 am, a car backfired outside our apartment.  The award for first responder goes to our sweet little 20 pound fur-ball of a dog, who I often think has a bit of a Napoleon Complex.  He immediately let out a bark letting the world know he was in charge. 

My husband was close on his heels in a move of agility like I’ve never seen from him before.  Within seconds he had flipped from sleeping on his back to up on his hands and knees ready to pounce.  I am convinced that if either man or beast had been intruding into our apartment at that point his lanky 6’2” frame would have taken them down.

My sleepy pregnant body, on the other hand, barely moved as I assured them both that it was only a car, we were not being invaded, and “please just go back to sleep.”

The moral of the story: If you want to awake my husband, start with a bang, not a whimper.


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