Both Wyatt and Byron are gone for practically the entire weekend.  And as a reward for this, I slept in blissfully until 8:30 AM.  I happily got up and did my morning routine, and could hear the dogs shuffling outside my door, as they usually do when they know that I am awake.  As I came out of the bathroom, however, I could hear Da Vinci, just whining and crying as though he was in absolute pain.  I couldn't possibly imagine what was wrong, but being a fairly old dog (he's almost 13, I think), lots of terrible thoughts ran threw my mind as I rushed out the bedroom door to see what was wrong.  I hurried down the hallways looking through each room, trying to find him.  I called for him, but being the deaf, old man that he is, he couldn't hear me.  Then I found him.  Both Da Vinci and Duke were in the study at the end of the hallway.  Duke was laying on the window bench, a favorite place for both dogs, as they like to look out at the neighborhood and feel the warmth of the sun.  And there sat Da Vinci, sitting next to the window seat, whining at Duke.  Why?  Because Duke wouldn't move over and share the window seat.  Really Da Vinci?  Really?  Here I am running around thinking you've broken a hip or something, and you are throwing a tantrum because Duke won't share the seat.  Was this just the canine version of what my life is to become when this baby is born?  I don't know if I'm ready to handle the human version of this scenario.