Okay, so I am in bed AGAIN with my dogs. The puppy is alternately chewing on my hand and the quilt and occasionally big brother's ears. He just now ripped the quilt. He is a brat. I am aware of their presence asw I sit in my bed and I laugh at the little things, even the ripped quilt. However, I am a middle aged woman who constantly "stalked the house" Could not sit down, could not rest, could not be still. PTSD stinks. And now, I have my side of the bed that is safe. Once it was a closet in my daughter's room. I still crave closets. I hope you are well today. It looks like hubby is home with the dog food.