Night 1

So as nice as Eric's aunt and uncle were, they did own a manic-depressive dog that made things slightly more interesting. He seemed friendly enough but anytime either you or he left the room it was as if he had totally forgotten your very existence and would proceed to bark bloody murder until a family member intervened. The real crisis came at 2 in the morning when I awoke with need to use the lavatory. I was told that the dog would be on the landing to the second floor, so I feared that any attempt to make it to the only bathroom in the house would likely mean, not only my untimely demise by Cujo (actual name Joey), but only waking up the entire house in the process. I tried for roughly 30 minutes to convince myself I could hold it and get back to bed, but I was only fooling myself. Luckily, Joey had been locked up with his owners, but when he came downstairs to see me sleeping on the coach in the morning, he made sure to let everyone know of my presence. Bad Joey.