Mentioned before that Billy Bob is almost completely deef, but don't think I mentioned that there is one significant exception.
When it gets to be, say, five p.m. (too early for him to eat, else he'll be barking the whole house awake about five a.m.), he can be completely passed out, and yet no matter how quietly I try to tread the stairs (using the technique of stepping close to the risers to avoid creaks I learned at age 19 from my first reading of Nancy Dr--er, the Hardy Boys), there he is, right behind me, then in front of me, then turning wild circles at the bottom of the stairs, then barking madly over his food dish.
One of my grandmothers was like that. Towards the end.
Update: Bet that's the longest sentence I ever wrote. Alleged D-blog readers will probably not know which sentence I mean.
Update II: Should explain the "shupper dime" ref, since no one sane will bother to hunt it up in the Heinlein excerpts. But I ain't gonna.
Update III: JWP, how's your ol' lumpy pup?
Update IV: That "Towards the end" is a lie. Grandma was always like that. And she had big nasty teeth.