It snores, too.

                                        
 So many people in my life snore. Amazing snorers. My earliest snoring memories are of those when my dad's snores, like barrells rolling down wooden stairways, would wake us up in the middle of the night...despite the fact that at least 2 closed doors were between us all. No wonder my mom was always snippy in the morning; there's no way she could have had a restful night's sleep. I also remember my popa's loud snores that would sail up the stairs from his "dungeon" where he took his afternoon naps. My brother, Kent, inherited Popa's brand of snoring: a loud rumbling that rises and falls like waves ebbing and flowing on the beach. Sometimes it's so loud that it wakes even Kent up, which, by the way, is FUNNY to witness. He'll sit up, all startled, look around to see what happened, and when he's satisfied that all is fine in his world, he'll resume his position and go right back to sleep. When my Ella was a baby, she snored like an old man in dire need of an apnea mask. She had large adenoids that nearly touched, which caused the little thing to sound like a hibernating bear. She has since grown into them, and the snoring has subsided. Nevertheless, it was incredible to hear this itsybitsy baby snore with such ferocity. My mom doesn't like to admit that she snores, but I have heard her many times. She does it mostly when she passes out on her back with her mouth wide open. It reminds me of how my grandma used to sleep.
                               
These are just a few of my favourite snorers. The list could go on and on, and I wouldn't be surprised to find that I could place myself up there somewhere. What does surprise me is that as I have been chilling on the couch watching The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills and snuggling with the little baby cockapoo, Mercy Lou, I have learned that it snores, too! A 9-week old puppy snores. Ha! I love it!