This morning I was having a pleasant dream (because it did not involve Ashton Kutcher, this time). And then there was a dog barking and barking and barking, but it wasn't in my dream. Alyosha really was doing her best ferocious, old pitbull growl and bark because there was a hot air balloon flying over our house and she was convinced it was trying to attack us, or something.
And this is why, once again, I got up at 5:30a. It's proof of Pavlov's theory, really. The balloon flies over the house, she barks, it flies away. She knows it works so shejust keeps doing it. I love my old black and white dog, I hate getting up at 5:30a. In fact I hate pretty much anything at 5:30a except for sleeeeeeeeep.