Day Seven, Morning - In which I can't believe it has only been a week. It feels like a LOT longer. I feel years older. I wake up when the alarm goes off - and I don't hear a sound from the puppies. No cries of bloody murder, no whimpers, no barks, no sounds at all. I dread going out to the kitchen. They may have escaped, and could be anywhere in the house by now. I finally get up to investigate. I come around the corner to the kitchen, and they are still ASLEEP, all piled into the smaller crate. There's no one on top of the crate to greet me, there's no clamoring for attention at the barricade, that is, until I turn on the light and they wake up. I climb over the barricade, and I'm surrounded. There's less of a mess to clean up this morning, although the water dish has been upset, again...but it's different with only three pups...the house feels a little emptier. I clean up the mess, put down clean newspaper, and get the food and water ready. Three pups make as much noise as five, and eat even faster. Soon they're pulling on my sweatpants, chewing on my toes, as though they don't miss Lori and Heath. But I do. I pick up Warren, Pam pets Garrison and Sullivan. Sullivan comes over and chews on my toes. I put Warren down, and make coffee.

Day Seven, Evening - All of the dogs have been outside today. My kitchen needed a break, and the pups needed a change of scenery. I am greeted by a chorus of barks, howls, and whines when I get home.

The resident four are mad, especially Daisy - I let them in, and Daisy sits on my foot to deliver her lecture - "where have you been, I thought you were never coming home, I am hungry, you better feed me how could you be away from me this long " she doesn't stop until I have petted her enough to suit her.

Quickly, I put the pups in their crate and start getting the kitchen ready for them - drop cloth, newspaper put out their food and water. The vultures descend, and the food disappears. I feed the resident four, who have been mostly wonderful during Beagle Camp.

The next time I hear someone say they are "dog tired", I'm just going to laugh at them because they have NO idea what that means. Except that I am BEYOND dog tired. I am PUPPY tired. Which, according to my sister is something close to being "toddler tired".

I am hoping that nothing out of the ordinary happens tonight. I put the baby gates across the barricade and go to bed.