Which is foxtrot time, as anyone over a certain age knows.
But it’s also Greyhound Time.
And back to this:
Ah, tis hard to be a greyhound. Such responsibility, to be always beautiful, shiny, winsome, adored and admired. To always be ready for the walkies, the ride in the car, any passing treats, the zoomies in the back yard. Such a hard life demands ample snoozing time. Eh, Mouse?