The week before All Hallow's Eve - and strange things are a brewing in the house of Bethlehem.

I awoke in the early a.m. to the sound of the alarm clock. As Earl's tired head still lay half asleep on his pillow, I reluctantly slid out of bed and found my balance. I looked to my feet to see my beloved bulldog Ozzy lying faithfully by my side of the bed. Only something is different about him...

Ozzy was wearing a T-shirt.

My first response was to tell Earl that although it's cute, the T-shirt is much too tight for Ozzy to lie comfortably in. And for God's sake, at least put his legs through the arm holes. I felt the collar of the shirt and realized just how tight it was around his neck. Again, I scolded Earl. He should never leave something like that over his head all night. Earl's response:

"What are you talking about?"

I hesitated at this, but then began undressing the dog. Not an easy task as the shirt was very tight. Ozzy's huge neck was completely through the neck hole and his poor legs were all tucked up inside. His body was cocooned inside the shirt and the way he just laid there helplessly reminded me of little lamb. Again, I said to Earl, "Honey, it's really tight. You can't leave him like this all night. Look, his legs are all tied up inside." Earl's response,

"Amy, I didn't do that."

I looked at him with disbelief. "Well how did he get like this? He couldn't have just fallen into the shirt. Look how perfectly he's wearing it, too. It's not twisted or anything. Like you put it on him on purpose... "

"Amy. Again. I... did... not... do... that."

I felt a funny metal taste in my mouth. I think they call that fear. I swallowed it down. "Okay, uh..." that's as far as I got with that sentence. I believed what Earl was telling me. Although he would dress the dog in a shirt or sweatshirt for laughs, he at least would have chosen a shirt that fits, he would have pulled the legs threw the arm holes, and he would have NEVER left it like that through the night. Earl's a cautious person and this was not a smart thing going on here.

I was still struggling to get Ozzy's body unwrapped. The poor dog was trying to get up but his legs were all folded up inside and he couldn't get them loose. He was looking at me like, Hey mom, this is really uncomfortable. I couldn't imagine how he got like this. The shirt was pulled perfectly over his body. It wasn't twisted at all like Ozzy had struggling to get in it, or for that matter, out of it. I had no idea if he had been like this all night, but if he had, his poor legs must have been so cramped.

Well, I got his legs out and pull it up over his tail and then his back. Then I gave it a good tug and freed his head. The amount of strength I had to use to get it over his head made me again wonder how he did this.

The only answer I could come up with was -

Ozzy didn't do it either.