One Hard-Working Dog

One day last week my husband had jury duty and needed to be downtown at 8am.  In order to have time to drive downtown, park, and make it in to the jury assembly, he needed to leave our house considerably before 8am, thus leaving me to handle the bulk of the craziness that is getting our 4 kids up and ready for school, 4 lunches made, and 4 kids dropped off to 2 different schools.

I got up extra early and did all kinds of work and logistics handling.  After I'd gotten all the kids successfully to school, I did the dishes, and last minute preparations for the 9am leadership meeting I had for the Bible study I teach.  But, before I left the house, I walked back through my bedroom to grab something I needed for the day, and what did I find, but this sight:

Somehow all the hard work I'd done that morning made the non-hard-working dog feel all the more wrong!

She gets to go back to bed?  And on MY bed, no less?