Before I take your advice and get that rest, I thought you might appreciate this. I had sent it to a few people a while ago but never had the chance to share it this way. It's from Jimmy Stewart on the Tonight Show way back in 1981. I feel your pain.
Dedicated to Farmer Bob's Simon:
He never came to me when I would call, unless I had a tennis ball, or he felt like it; But mostly he didn’t come at all.
When he was young he never learned to heel, or sit, or stay… he did things his way.
Discipline, was not his bag…but, when you were with him, things sure didn’t drag.
He’d dig up a rose bush just to spite me, and when I’d grab him, he’d turn ‘n bite me.
He bit lots of folks from day to day; the delivery boy was his favorite prey.
The gas man wouldn’t read our meter; he said we owned a real man-eater.
He set the house on fire, but the story’s long to tell; suffice to say that he survived and the house survived as well.
And on evening walks, and Gloria took him, he was always first out the door; the old one and I brought up the rear because our bones were sore.
And he’d charge up the street with mom hangin’ on; what a beautiful pair they were, and if it was still light and the tourists were out, they created a bit of a stir.
But every once in a while he’d stop in his tracks and with a frown on his face look around; it was just to make sure that the old one was there, to follow him where he was bound.
We’re early to bedders in our house, I guess I’m the first to retire, and as I’d leave the room, he’d look at me and get up from his place by the fire.
He knew where the tennis balls were upstairs I’d give him one for a while, and he’d push it under the bed with his nose and I’d dig it out with a smile.
But before very long, he’d tire of the ball and he’d be asleep in his corner in no time at all.
And there were nights, when, I’d feel him climb upon our bed, and lie between us, and I’d pat his head.
And then there were nights when I’d feel his stare and I’d wake up and he’d be sitting there and I’d reach out to stroke his hair and sometimes I’d feel him sigh, and, I think I know the reason why.
He’d wake up at night and would have this fear, of the dark, of life, of lots of things, and he’d be glad to have me near.
And now he’s dead, and, there are nights, when I think, I feel him climbing up on our bed, and lie between us, and I, pat his head.
And there are nights, when I think I feel that stare, and I reach out my hand to stroke his hair, and he’s not there.
Oh, how I wish that wasn’t so;
I’ll always love a dog named Bo.
Jimmy Stewart – July 28, 1981
The Tonight Show