fromthemouthofmoi

1/9/1998 Last night Max woke me up with his barking. I was spending a long overdue week out on the sound and was dead tired. My eyes opened to the sight of what seemed an unfamiliar ceiling. For a moment I had forgotten where I was. As I adjusted my eyes I could hear Max running back and forth across the deck at the side of the house. I knew that whatever he was excited about must be in the direction of the dock. The only way on or off my little hide-a-way was by boat and I wasn't expecting anyone, or for that matter, wanting to see anyone. I didn't feel like getting out of bed --that's for sure-- but I also knew that I wouldn't be able to get back to sleep until Max saw to it that I had sufficiently checked things out to his satisfaction. Max was the type of dog that thought he was my peer. Not just any peer mind you but the type of person who imagined himself more efficient than you. At this hour I felt like a worn out dog heeding my master's plea. I put on my paj