"Well, at least Aunt Charys' dumb cat finished last," I said.
|When is football season??|
Tucker wanted to watch the game last night. I told him it didn't start until 8:30, well past his bedtime. He asked for coffee and settled into the couch and said he was going to stay up late.
Then we found out it wasn't on network television, but on some obscure cable channel. Cable? Really? What are we doing, living in the 90s? I tried dialing it up on the laptop but the streaming was spotty and Tucker got tired of staring over my shoulder.
So I went to bed. And North Carolina lost.
"If we had stayed up I would have used my willful doggie rays and made that guy miss that last shot," Tucker grumbled.
It's of no solace to Tucker that I finished a distant sixth, and Angus nearly finished last. "That's cool. Give me a treat," he barked.
Look. There is always next year. And when I reminded him that without me, he'd have no entry because he can't type, he just glared at me and curled his lip.
"You are lucky I don't have opposable thumbs," said Tucker. "Otherwise, I'd rule the world."