Brooke here.
Me: Get out.
Dogs: Hot.
Me: I know the last time you went to the bathroom. You’re due. Go.
Dogs: We’re good. Ask us again around midnight. Maybe one or two in the morning. It’ll be cool then.
Me: Out.
Dogs: This linoleum? This linoleum I’m lying on? It is awesome.
Me: OUT.
Dogs: Fine.
Me: That was quick.
Dogs: Cool, blessed linoleum…
Me: You sure you don’t want to go for a walk?
Dogs: May you and your ancestors burn in a fiery hell to the nth generation, or have to go get groceries.
So with the dogs slipping into heat hibernation, I should be extremely productive today. Sadly, all I want to do is curl up on the linoleum and read…
Flying by night 
Actually, when you conk out in the summer, that’s called aestivation. (From the Latin “aestas”, summer, and “hiems,” winter.)
The house melted, didn’t it?
There was SO MUCH melting.
so much melting forever…
Your writing style is succinct and hilarious. I love it. Our cats are doing much the same down here in Florida. They make suicidal dives for the fridge whenever the door’s open now.