This one particular night I am in my Sleep Number bed knocked out cold. I mean I am cutting some good zzzzzzz’s and having the best dream ever. Then wouldn’t you know it, out of nowhere, I’m being violently shaken followed by a soft whisper coming from my wife’s side of the bed.

 “Are you awake?”

“Well heck yea I’m awake. You just gave me whiplash.”

“Go let Max inside, he must have been left out last night.”

 ”It’s three o’clock in the morn…”

Before I can even finish my sentence I get the look.

I get up and stagger to the door in my Tweety Bird boxers. My hair’s in a rooster tail and drool is dripping off my chin. I walk out in the yard and try to focus on my target and start calling our little poodle dog, Max, to come inside.

“Come on boy.”

I sit there for the longest time calling this stupid dog and he ain’t moving. I’m gonna have to go get him…craaaaaaap! I’m barefooted and the grass is wet. I tip toe his way and start calling him again real sweet like.

“Come on Max, come on boy, GET YOUR DAAANG SELF INSIDE SO I CAN GO BACK TO SLEEP!”

He ain’t moving a muscle and is gonna make me have to go pick him up. I tip toe a little further out and the closer I get the more something just don’t seem right. I scratch my head, rub my eyes and I finally realize what is wrong. I have spent the last 15 minutes, outside, in the middle of the night, barefooted and in my drawers calling a daaaang soccer ball to come inside. Good grief. I’m going to get my eyes checked. I’m just sayin’.