Back here on Wool Street with my quartet of lovelies, I find I often have a reoccuring frightening dream that happens just before waking. In the dream, I see the kibble. I know the kibble is there. The kibble is rolling in the drawer, and yet, although the kibble is close, it does not satisfy. The kibble does not satisfy, and I am tormented by this. My discomfort rises to a level that I am forced to waken before I am ready, and then there is Bruno, sitting by his food bowl, impatient for breakfast, smugly aware that he has once again managed to invade my dreams. See how he laughs?
