and he personally delivers them all freaking night long.
"i feel better, where's my futon?"
"hey carol, is my futon in here?'
"hello??? i can't find my futon."
"i would like my futon please!"
all accompanied by his grinning happy panting face.
he had so much re-hab in walking around last night that he is almost fully recovered. but he stays in the kitchen until saturday when i am around to keep a closer eye on him.
sorry bill, the futon can wait.