I had just turned off mindless TV and drowsily settled into bed last night, when I felt pair of liquid brown eyes staring at me.

It was the little terrorista, food dish in mouth. Telling me he was hungry. At 11:15pm.

That’s because he only ate one of his two meals today.

I dragged my drowsy butt out of bed and into the kitchen, where I prepared him some dog food with cheese and sliced carrots.

Which he devoured.

After I’d settled back into bed, I heard his little paws scurrying out of the bedroom. There’s an 80 percent chance that signifies that he’s got contraband, so I dragged my lazy butt BACK out of bed to go check. Because Riley is infamous for putting contraband in his mouth. Including potentially toxic stuff, like sugarless gum. And then doing the “contraband scutttle” right out of the room. To devour it out of my sight.

Nope, just a dog chew.

I know it’s not Sit! Saturday. But still. I thought this little episode said a lot about how my sanity is starting to go.

I just took this picture of the Rilester. He’s on the bed with me. Looking adorable. And, as you can see, smugly entitled.