I was telling my good friend, Skooter, that I don’t sleep well at night.

I’ve learned through the years I can always count on his advice.

“Have a lot on your mind?” he asked.

“Not really,” I replied.

“Worried about the newspaper?”

“Not really,” I answered.

“So … what’s the problem?”

“Well, you know how cold it’s been,” I explained. “She keeps scrunching right next to me all night. I barely have any room.”

“Oh,” Skooter said. “Kind of crowded … huh.”

“She snores too.”

“That ain’t good,” Skooter said.

“Plus, she licks my arm all night,” I added.

Skooter didn’t say anything.

Finally, he spit out a big wad of Redman tobacco juice and said, “You do anything to encourage her fore ya’ll go to bed?”

“Nothing I don’t do every night,” I said. “We sit on the couch for awhile, I rub her tummy and tell her how much I love her.”

“Every night!” he ex-claimed. “Most men don’t do that kinda thing anymore after they’re married. You oughta just give her a card on Valentine’s Day.”

Sometimes I can’t believe how dumb Skooter can be.

“So what are you gonna do?” Skooter asked.

“I don’t know,” I said.

I could see that Skooter was thinking real hard.

“I ain’t slept with Flo since 1986,” he finally said. “I got her a King size bed and her own TV for her bedroom. She ain’t bothered me in 20 years.”

Sometimes I can’t believe how smart Skooter can be.

But my wife said that’s the dumbest thing she’s ever heard of.

She said I’d have to sleep by myself, and the dog would just have to sleep in her bedroom now on.