Last night I dreamed that Buzz was running with a gang of wild street dachshunds . . . I know . . . “wild street dachshund” isn’t an image that comes to one’s mind easily.

So, eventually, as a result of his bad behavior he got sick and died! (Who knows what kinds of diseases wild street dachshunds carry?) I was so distraught I picked him up and put him in a laundry basket . . . . I know it doesn’t make sense. I couldn’t deal with it at the time. Later on, however, I started thinking about it and I thought, maybe he isn’t dead, maybe he’s just sick. So I went back to the laundry basket, (took the laundry out) and there was Buzz all cold and stiff. But he blinked, so I knew he was still alive. I pulled him out and started off to the vet hoping there was still time to save him.

Then I woke up. I had not been sleeping well, so I decided after a dream like that I should just get up and get going.

Buzz is fine. The worst thing that’s happened to him is that the cleaning lady threw away his chew toys. Lucky for him I brought spares.