My husband, on the other hand, stays up later. When I head off to bed, he likes to pop in a movie - the kind I'm not so interested in seeing. The other night he rented Reservoir Dogs. I saw that one at least fifteen years ago and have no interest in seeing it again. It's gratuitously violent as far as I'm concerned.
That means Steve is the one who lets Sarah out to go potty at 12:30am or so. With Steve out of town for a couple of days, I really wasn't looking forward to doing that.
So last night I took Sarah out at around 10:30 to do her business and she did both of them. I put her in her crate, hung up her lead, and went to bed expecting her to start whining to go out at 12:30 or so.
I woke up with a start a few hours later, looked at the clock, which said 1:30am, and jumped out of bed. I was afraid that I missed Sarah's time to go to the bathroom. I rushed downstairs with the lead in hand and peaked into her crate. And there she was, all warm snug, curled up in a ball.
"Do you have to go outside?" I asked her, expecting her to get up and wait at the door of the crate.
She didn't even lift her head to look at me. It was obvious she didn't have to go out. She wanted to sleep, and I didn't blame her one bit. I went back to bed, thinking that I would probably hear from her in a couple of hours.
Get this: I didn't hear a sound from her all night long. She let me sleep until 6:45 this morning.
She's such a good girl!