It is time once again for the point of view of the dog and cat. As always, the dog starts things off.
7:02 AM. Waking up at home. Slept exceedingly well. Very good dreams. Got into the cookie bin. Now, if only that could happen in real life, but the human keeps it in an upper cupboard and being a dog, I lack the opposable thumbs required to get at it.
7:05 AM. Looking outside. Wagging my tail. Fall colours continue to proceed as expected. Light frost on the lawn. The muffled honking of Canada geese bolting for the south off in the distance. Autumn is a perfectly lovely time of year.
7:08 AM. Wondering if I should go upstairs and bark at the human to wake up.
7:10 AM. Sounds from upstairs. Okay, she’s up. I can be patient and wait for breakfast. Oh, breakfast. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways…
7:15 AM. ….and then there’s breakfasts with a plate of bacon on the side of the kibbles. Oh, do I love bacon!
7:21 AM. The human comes downstairs. Well, good morning, human! Fine day, isn’t it? Say, I can’t speak for you, but I know I’ve had it on my mind quite extensively since I woke up. Have you given any thought to breakfast?
7:23 AM. The human pours me a big bowl of kibbles. I thump my tail against the kitchen floor in anticipation…
7:24 AM. Have finished devouring all the kibbles. Licking my lips. That hit the spot, let me tell you…
7:26 AM. Say, human? How about you let me out the door for my morning run and I leave you in peace to have your breakfast without mooching dog eyes watching you? Is that a win-win both ways? Especially if I find a mud puddle?
7:27 AM. Out the door and on my way for a run. Bye, human!
7:43 AM. Running through the back fields, barking my head off, having a ball.
7:58 AM. Stopping in my tracks in a clearing in the woods. Awed by what I see. It’s the mother of all mud puddles.
8:02 AM. Splashing around in the water and mud, thoroughly enjoying myself.
8:09 AM. Giving myself a good shake after finishing up splashing about. Feeling quite pleased. Now then, how to get back into the house without being subjected to a bath, that’ll be a challenge. Maybe I should ask Spike for some advice.
8:20 AM. Stopping in to see Spike the Magnificent, Tormentor of Squirrels. Hello, Spike!
8:21 AM. Spike remarks that I look like the Dog From The Black Lagoon. Is that so bad?
8:23 AM. Spike suggests there will be no getting around it- I’ll be in for a bath when I get home. He notes that as fun as mud puddles may be, they inevitably lead to baths. You might be right. Oh, by the way, this might sound odd, but I could swear that I was being watched while I was splashing about.
8:29 AM. Parting ways with Spike. This being a weekend day, we don’t have to worry about that evil mailman coming our way. I wonder what he does with his time on the weekends. Probably performs ritual sacrifices to the Mail Demon. And our humans wonder why we bark at them so often.
8:43 AM. Returning home. Wondering how to slink into the house past the human before she realizes I’m covered in dried up mud.
8:44 AM. No good! The human has opened the door and spotted me before I could dash past her. I’m in for it now…
8:57 AM. Thoroughly drenched, being subjected to a bath by garden hose situation here. And as we all know, the bath is followed by treatment from the Towel of Torment. You know, human, all that mud on me was dry by the time I got back. I could have just shaken it all off inside the house like a civilized dog does.
12:03 PM. I have woken up from a nap just in time for some lunch, and have just mooched a cheese and ham sandwich from the human. Yum yum yum!
3:25 PM. The human is having afternoon tea. I have successfully used my patented sad eyes look to mooch a couple of oatmeal cookies from her.
5:48 PM. The human is making dinner. Whatever it is, it smells good. Bacon is involved.
6:21 PM. Dinner with the human. Bacon pancakes! Oh boy, these are good!
11:39 PM. The human is off to bed. Well, good night, human! Sleep well. Have peaceful dreams. I may dream of that mud puddle out there. Maybe go back and see it tomorrow. Just see it. I don’t have to jump into it to prove a point. I mean, after all, I can behave myself. Sure I can. Because I’m a good dog. Despite what the mailman and the vet and the mayor and the cranky cat down the road might say.