Last night was rough. Really rough.
Bea may not have slept all night - she didn't bark, she didn't whine, but she did pace back and forth on our hardwood floors. If we'd hired a tap dancer, Bea would have drowned her out.
I got a few hours in, spaced in 10-20 minute chunks. I am sure it's going to get easier, but this may have been the worst night of sleep I've gotten since I saw Night of the Living Dead. I know that's not a terrifying movie, but I was 11.
Maybe Bea Arthur is a zombie dog. Or a dog vampire, who only sleeps during the day. Either way, the sleeping habits of the undead may be better than what we dealt with last night.