Bogie got us up at 2 this morning, wanting out.  The discussion between Wayne and me went something like this.
            Wayne:  "Bogie wants out."
            Me:         "Why are you telling me this?"
            Wayne:  "He’s your dog."
            Me:         "No, he isn’t.  I bought him for you, remember?"
            Wayne:  "Yes, but he likes you better."
            Me:         "That’s because I feed him and pay him more attention."
            Wayne:  "My point exactly."
           
By this time the poor dog is crossing his legs and holding himself. 
Who ended up taking him out?  Wanna guess?  Here’s a hint.  (The sky is actually quite lovely that time of the night.)