Instead of eagerly following our pack to bed, Nacho lay snoozing in the living room. He was gently woken up, then walked a couple feet and laid back down. When picked up he squawked. Finally he was herded, step-by-step, to the boudoir.
This was the dance that used to frustrate us many evenings until our uncle spilled the beans. He took one look at our apparently simple-minded and/or deaf brethren, and commented that Nacho was so smart he was playing dumb to get his way. We were floored.
|the jig is up|
Now even Nacho jumps up and runs to bed when he sees the Glucosamine Chondroitin tablet he loves. It's gobbled down enthusiastically only after he comes when he's called.
The Battle of Bedtime is over. Good night, folks!