I awoke this morning to a thumping sound coming from the den. It was about 5am and the light was just beginning to peek through the windows. I looked into the windowless den, which was pitch black except for a greyish tall figure with waving arms and no head. An apparition? A ghost?
I reached to my night stand and located my glasses. After fumbling around a bit, I managed to put them on, and then looked back towards the den. And I saw it .... my father was struggling to put on a sweatshirt.
He has "his way" of doing things. All fathers do. And "his way" of putting on a sweatshirt is to put it all over his head, but not to push his head through the hole. Instead, he reaches up with both arms and "struggles" until he is able to pull his hands through the sleeves. Only then will he reach up and pull his head through.
I should have been able to figure this out, since Jett wasn't barking. But finding a solid black labrador in a pitch black room is no easy task. I should've listened for the snoring.
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