I also like afternoons.
And evenings aren't too shabby.
I don't mind nights, either. Some of my best work is done at night.
But, I've decided this segment will be about mornings, and about mornings it shall be.
I wake up around the 3rd time Mom's alarm goes off. You see, she's a fan of the snooze - and me, well, I'm a fan of waking up very slowly. It's also around the third time that mom finally gets up herself and swings her legs over the side of the bed. It is then that, out of self defense, I lift my oversized forehead off my bed to look up.
As I mentioned before, my dog bed is on mom's side of the human bed - but on the floor. So, depending on its exact position in relation to the human bed, how sleepy mom is, and where my head is placed in the bed - my reaction time in waking up varies morning to morning. This morning, it was swift. And just in time.
My day then proceeds like this:
1.) Wake up (avoid foot on head)
2.) Stretch. Most often with butt in sky and head down low. Where do you think they get the yoga move, "downward dog." Just an extension of the human's desire to be more like their canine counterpart.
3.) Make any noise I can muster: Groan, Snort, Yap, Moan, Bark, Howl, Cry. Depends on the morning and just how I'm feeling (and whether I escaped the foot in time).
4.) Jump at dad.
5.) Jump at dad, again, for good measure.
5 is the highest I can count to...it's up to you to list these numerically in your head from here on out. Frankly, you should be impressed that I got you to 5.) Jump at Zeus.
Remember when I mentioned that my reaction time is directly related to the proximity of mom's feet to my head? Dad's reaction / wake up time is in direct connection with how close to Zeus I get with the first jump.
Get carried downstairs by dad. Funny thing about this one. I can go UP stairs just fine. I do it whenever I want (and when mom and dad say its ok). I can go up stairs fast, I can go up stairs slow. I can stop halfway up the stairs just to take a look around before continuing my journey up.
Down is another story. Some may say this is very cow-like of me. But it turns out, some would be wrong.
Anyway.
Due to extenuating circumstances beyond my control (ie: mom and dad never wanted me to learn to go downstairs for fear I may make a break for it at our second apartment on the second floor), I don't go downstairs. Period. Well, that's a lie. If it's 3 stairs or less, and I get a running start - I can leap over them. It always makes mom a little sick to her stomach to watch it.
So now we're downstairs.
I go outside. Do my business.
Come inside for the Most Wonderful Time of the Day.
Go back outside to finish my business (there is too much outside to discover in the morning. I don't have time to do both 'tricks' my first time out!)
RUN back upstairs to go watch mom and dad get ready for work.
And to chew on socks.
And jump at Zeus.
And lick the shower water (more on that another time).
And lick mom's lotion (yum).
And then, finally, the humans are ready for work.
So I'm carried back outside.
Where I proceed to do none of my business because, honestly people, I already did it once for you today, and don't you think that's enough before 8AM?
Come inside, where I'm set up in my Play Pen.
Get my treat.
Eat my treat.
Watch mom and dad leave.
Bark.
Chew on a toy.
A number after 5.) Sleep.
And that's why mornings are my favorite.
{Helping Mom put on her shoes. It's the last thing she does before we go back downstairs. We do not eat shoes. We do not eat shoes. We do not eat shoes.}
{This is my playpen. And thats my Tire. And that's my bone. I love my bone. And that's my bed. My bed's comfy. And that's my ball. I usually leave it under the couch, but one of the humans got it out for me and I love my ball. And that's my water on a placemat because I can be a messy drinker. Imagine that. And that's me. See: Bark.}
