Just because I don't have toddlers running around my feet shrieking for Cheerios doesn't mean I don't have some mornings that make me wish I could just open the front door and take a long, long walk (but then there's the whole 'I'm still in my PJs' thing). I love my pets, but some mornings? Grrrrrr....
Today started out much earlier than I'd hoped it would. The Boy came in at 7 a.m. from his first ever bachelor's party for his buddy Josh. There was no drinking because Josh is studying to be a minister and doesn't indulge. Instead, it was an all-night LAN party with multiple systems running Halo. True to house rules, he came home around the time I would normally be getting up anyway, rather than coming in at 4 a.m. and waking the dogs. This morning, though, sleeping in would have been awesome.
Dogs up. Puppy poo on the floor to clean up. Just a little. For all I know Bodhi tried to wake me out of my deep slumber at some point, but it would have taken more than a little whimper last night. So I picked up the poo and washed up. Time to feed the puppy.
I nearly tripped over my daughter's cat, Gizmo, who was waiting outside my bedroom door for me to notice her. She used to sleep with her mommy, but since mommy is off in WV somewhere, Gizzy is stuck with me. She makes sure to get my attention first thing every morning. Bodhi came barreling out behind me, nearly flattening Gizmo. Aye, aye, aye. Hissing and fur everywhere.
Making Bodhi wait just a little longer, I prepared my coffee while Gizzy wound her way around my legs, meowing loudly. She had food, so I had to conclude it was my attention she wanted. I nearly tripped over her again as I went to the pantry to get puppy chow-chow.
Bodhi did his little dance of joy when I approached his bowl with the scoop of Eukanuba, his giant paws thudding on the linoleum. While he ate, I tried to run to the little girls' room. Gizmo followed me. I don't know about you, but I find it impossible to pee with a little furball prissing around, meowing, and trying to get petted. With a sigh, I paid her some attention, vowing to get back to my business after letting Bodhi out. Trying to wash my hands, I found myself pushed back from the sink as Bodhi shoved his way into the powder room, inspecting the cat.
"Do other people have this much trouble just getting through their mornings?" I wondered.
Hands dripping, I herded Bodhi toward the stairs. Down we went, he to go "poopy outside" and me to be his doorman. I actually have a little song I sing when it's time to go out. It's the only thing that will get Lily [our older bullie] to pay attention and follow me down the stairs.
What I didn't count on was that The Boy left his gear from the LAN party all over the entry way. A bag here, a fan there, a box of games over there. Bodhi inched his way down the stairs, flat, growling softly in his throat. Something was different in his house! GRRRR! So he proceeded at this snail's pace and inspected everything two, three times. Meanwhile, I'm standing at the back door singing a second chorus of "Poopy Outside!" while he inspects. Finally I got his attention and got him out the door where he promptly set to inspecting every miniscule piece of dirt on the patio, every wild strawberry, and every bug. No peeing.
While standing next to the very tall cat tower at the back door, I notice the distinct odor of cat pee. Mental note. Gotta get to the cat box cleaning sooner rather than later today. (The cat box bench is maybe 10 feet from the cat tower). I noticed that Bodhi was still exploring, so I put a load of towels in the wash. They smelled a little musty, so I set them for an extra rinse and threw in a Downy ball. Gizzy danced around my legs, and I got her out of the laundry closet so I could shut the door.
At this point, I just wanted my coffee. I let Bodhi in from his protracted exploration and headed back upstairs. Gizzy followed us. When I got my coffee (and heat pack for an aching back) from the kitchen, I noticed Lily sitting at the halfway landing, gazing at me. She had come halfway from the bedroom to the kitchen and was waiting to see if she could get some breakfast.
I put down my coffee, promising it that I would not be long, and scooped up Lily's chow-chow, a mixture of Science Diet J/D for her arthritis and Eukanuba Senior (which results in a lower net cost for food. Time are hard! Corners must be cut!) I shook one of her prescription joint supplements into my hand and dropped it into her bowl. She was waiting to dig in until everything was just so. Bodhi plopped his butt down on the floor in front of me, waiting to see if he, too, could get a tablet. I grabbed the old bottle of supplements and gave him one, making a mental note that we were getting low on those. What would I do when we ran out? Get another $22 bottle just to make Bodhi happy? Or give him a treat instead (meaning that Lily would stop eating and would want a treat of her own). Gizzy was sitting up on the little table we have for the cats in the kitchen, a place where they can eat and drink, unmolested by dogs. "Meow," she cried, plaintively.
Before I could set my coffee cup next to the couch, Lily was done with breakfast and heading toward the stairs to go out. It took a little coaxing and yes, an encore of "Poopy Outside!" but she finally came down the stairs. Now she had to inspect everything in the entryway. I almost felt like tapping my foot, but that would have taken more energy than my pre-coffee state had.
Both of the dogs ran back outside. Again, Bodhi didn't pee; he just sniffed around. Not a good sign, I thought. Gotta go see if he had an accident anywhere in the house! Lily managed to go before he playfully attacked her.
Opening the back door, I clapped my hands together and said, "C'mon dogs! Let's go!"
I went out the back door in my PJs and slippers and herded them back in, grumbling the whole time and trying not to let Gizzy out.
When I got back to my coffee, it was cooling rapidly. I drank it down and tried to get into a few news stories online. Gizzy found a soft place to nap, and the dogs ran back upstairs where everyone else is still sleeping. More than once lately, I've wondered why it's always me that they wake up. Why not Daddy?
Well, while I type this, they are romping and playing, growling and pouncing, right in the middle of the bed. Hubby? Is probably sleeping right through it. I guess that's my answer.
An interesting message popped up in my email while I was getting through all of this nonsense today. Dr. Jon at PetPlace.com sent a message about what your choice of dog breed says about you. I had to read this! Accord to Dr. Jon, "Most bulldog owners love to laugh and be silly but some have a stubborn streak. They like to do things in their own time and in their own way. They are very methodical and look for the easiest and most efficient way to get things done. They love their family dearly and can be very romantic. They have a sentimental streak and love to sit in front of the TV with a big bowl of popcorn. Favorite TV show: The Simpson." This pretty much sums me up, but I don't know about the Simpsons. Maybe 10 or 15 years ago. Now its all Lost, baby!
Peace - D