Faith Can Move Mountains... But Dynamite Works Better

Wednesday, February 14, 2018

A Day In The Life Of A Dog

It is time once more for the point of view of the dog and the cat, Winter Olympics edition. As always, I begin with the dog...

7:12 AM. Waking up at home. Dreamed of bacon. That qualifies as a good dream.

7:14 AM. Looking outside at freshly fallen snow. It might be winter, but the dawn’s coming earlier and earlier now. The sun will be showing up in a little bit, but it’s light enough to see things. No signs of squirrels, which is a good thing. If I see one of those little bastards on my property, I’m going to bark up a storm that’ll wake the dead.

7:17 AM. Wondering if the human’s going to want to watch any of those Olympics today. Why don’t they give out medals for good dogs?

7:21 AM. Wagging my tail as the human comes downstairs. Hello, human! Is it a great day today or is it an even better day? Say, have you thought about breakfast? Because I haven’t had a thing since those cookies I scarfed last night when you weren’t watching.

7:23 AM. The human is pouring me a bowl of kibbles. I’m thumping my tail in anticipation of a yummy breakfast.

7:24 AM. Licking my chops after devouring my breakfast. That was good!

7:29 AM. Asking the human to let me out for my run.

7:30 AM. Sprinting out the back door after the human has been kind enough to open it for me. See you later, human!

7:38 AM. Running through the back fields, barking at the clouds, feeling as happy as I can possibly be.

7:52 AM. Stopping by to see Spike the Magnificent, Tormentor of Squirrels. Hello, Spike!

7:54 AM. Spike and I confer on the origins of the Olympics. He suggests that the ancient Greeks might have found skiing peculiar. Well, obviously, they used to compete naked. Can you imagine naked people skiing downhill?

7:57 AM. Spike and I discuss movements of the enemy. He saw one of the squirrels earlier at the bird feeders when he was inside, but by the time his humans opened the door for him, that little bastard was already gone. They’re planning something, Spike, I’m telling you. It’s something nefarious and awful, I mean world domination level awful, and it must involve bird seed.

8:03 AM. Parting ways with Spike. See you later, I’ve got to get back home and see to it that my human’s carefully supervised.

8:19 AM. Stopping by the property where that cranky cat lives. I wonder if I should head up to the windows and bark hello.

8:22 AM. I have spotted the cat in one of the windows and she has spotted me. She is hissing up a storm and casting insults my way, no doubt about my parentage and legitimacy as a hound. I’ll have you know I am a perfectly well behaved yellow Lab. Except on those occasions when I’ve barked you out of a sound sleep in the summer, or chased the mayor up a tree, and let’s not even bring up the vet and the mailman.

8:24 AM. Taking my leave of the cat’s property. It’s no use. She’ll always view me as the enemy. When all I want to do is bark at her once or twice a week. 

8:37 AM. Returning home. Barking to alert the human to my return. It is I, Loki, Chewer Of Slippers and Annoyer of Mailmen. Open the door!

8:39 AM. Back inside after the human has applied the Towel of Torment to me. I have tolerated it, because I am, after all, a very good dog. I take to the living room, circle around three times, and promptly set off to sleep.

12:13 PM. Mooching a dinner roll off the human at lunch. Yum yum yum!

1:31 PM. Barking at the mailman as he drops mail off in the box and drives away. Get lost, you monster! What have I told you about never coming back here again? How many times do I have to keep telling you that?

3:49 PM. The human thoughtfully gives me an oatmeal cookie while she has her tea. Oh, that’s good!

5:38 PM. Watching the human as she’s in the kitchen. I hope there’s some meat involved in dinner. Because a good dog like me likes to have meat for dinner. And I am a good dog. A very good dog.

6:22 PM. Dinner with the human. She’s given me some stewing beef, which is quite to my satisfaction. For whatever reason, she insists on having carrots with hers.

8:17 PM. Watching some of the Winter Olympics coverage with the human. This being on the other side of the world, the time zones and when these things are actually happening is a little out of whack. I don’t know what they mean by time zones. I mean, time is time, isn’t it? Time is only important when it’s time for dinner. Or belly rubs. Anyway, human… why are those people throwing themselves on those little sleds and rocketing head first down the course? Are they trying to kill themselves?

9:38 PM. The human is absorbed watching some of the curling event. This is another thing I just don’t get. I mean, sweeping a rock across some ice? Did humans invent this sport when they were drinking some really bad alcohol?

11:48 PM. While the human is off to bed, I’ve decided to stay downstairs. I get the strangest sense that my dreams tonight are going to consist of rocks being swept down the ice and people screaming sweep away at the top of their lungs.


  1. The shepherds get me every time. I love them!

  2. Love Love Love them all but the small dogs in large spaces, the look on the dogs fac in what are you eating... and go to sleep teddy... so darling.

    cheers, parsnip and mandibles

  3. John just called out from the other room, wanting to know what I'm cackling about. I didn't think you could top yourself, but I believe you've done it. I share favorites with angryparsnip. Wilma is one of those who will find and eat anything at all, and I'm the one saying, "Open. Your. Mouth."

  4. I like the dog talking about eating steak!

  5. Ha. The one with the bones under the couch looks like my house!

  6. These photos and captions are just too cute ~ beyond words~
    laughter good for the soul!

    Happy Weekend to you,
    A ShutterBug Explores,
    aka (A Creative Harbor)

  7. These are such fun. I like the German Shepherd who eats steak while his owner is texting! Among many others. Our new neighbors have a "border collie" rescue dog and he's driving them crazy. Their back yard is fenced but he digs under the gate. They put a chair under the gate but that didn't stop him for a minute. And when he gets out he flies up and down the neighborhood. Which, in the Trilogy community, is a no-no; all dogs have to be leashed. And there is a dog park. So, yesterday the old lady walked him to the dog park, which is a good half-mile. When they got home, he promptly dug himself free and took off again!


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