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I went to Office Max yesterday to buy some paper for my printer.

I picked up two reams and the bill was $9.63.

The cashier asked me if I wanted to open a charge account and save ten percent.

Dumbass that I am, I actually passed up the chance to save 96 cents.

BLOOOOOP...BLOOOOOP....BLOOOP....

Anyone who lives with a dog, especially anyone who nocturnally communes with a dog, knows that this distinct sound can shake you from slumber faster than fire.

So the other night, Trixie, Baron and I are laid about, chests rising and falling in catatonic cadence.

And then we hear it.

BLOOP

BLOOOOOOOP

BLLLOOOP

BLOOOOOOOOOP

BLOOP

BLOOP

Trixie and I are snatched from sleep and at once I scoop Baron like a football.

I jump down from the bed, swerve around a bedpost, and clutching the dog, flit across the room, boxer clad and groggy, as the dog nuzzles my nipples.

Holding his head in one hand and his ass and underside in the other, and with his dinger somehow parked between my fingers, I rush to the dimly lit bathroom and in one swift motion, I bowl him across the tile , hoping to avoid a single drop of doggie digestion on the carpet.

He glides across the floor with limbs a-splayed, all the while, looking over his shoulder at me as if to say WHAT THE FUCK??!!?!? I WAS SLEEPING YOU PRICK!"

His momentum gives way, he narrowly avoids a head-on with my vanity and he comes to a stop. His back paws jump out from under him and he makes a hard left. He bee-lines through the bathroom to the closet.

Trixie meanwhile, is thoroughly entertained by the fat man chasing the little dog screaming "NO! BARON! NOT THE CLOSET!"

The dog's eyes are growing larger by the minute and as I corner him and put him back on the tile, in profile view, I see his tail, what little tail he has, stop wagging and slump to cover where his nuts once dangled, years ago.

Trixie loses it and nearly falls off the bed crying with laughter.

So, for the next ten minutes, I'm sitting Indian-style on the bathroom floor, attempting to coax a frightened, and now BELCHING Miniature Schnauzer. Apparently, the BLOOPING was merely a test of the Emergency Throw Up System.

I grab the dog, place him back on the bed, gaze at the clock, which now reads 3:27 a.m. and am lulled back to dream land by the melodious chior of snores and belches from the little guy tucked away, fast asleep, between my legs.