Once again, it is time for the point of view of the dog and the cat. As always, the dog gets to have his say first (before he gets totally distracted)...
7:08 AM. Waking up at home. Dreamed of chewing on a bone.
7:11 AM. Looking out the window. Snow in the night. Clear skies. Well, at least we’re getting more light in the mornings.
Spring will come.
7:16 AM. Thinking of breakfast. A nice big bowl of kibbles would suit me nicely. I mean, after all, it’s been ten hours since I last had a bite to eat. It’s nice to be able to use the sad eyes look on my human. If it helps me scarf down a couple of oatmeal cookies, so much the better.
7:19 AM. Watching the birds flutter about the feeders. I wish I could be out there right now barking at them, but priorities must come first. I must have my breakfast, post haste. Of course, I have to wait for my human to come downstairs and all. It’s not as if I have opposable thumbs to open the pantry door, after all.
7:23 AM. The human comes downstairs. I wag my tail in greetings. Hello, human! Isn’t it a wonderful day out there? Say, have you put any thought into breakfast? I’m just saying, I’m a wee bit hungry right now and could really go for a bowl of kibbles….
7:24 AM. Thumping my tail on the floor in anticipation as the human pours a bowl of kibbles.
7:25 AM. Licking my lips in satisfaction after wolfing down the whole bowl of kibbles. The human asks if I enjoy being a vacuum cleaner for my food. Come on, human, don’t go comparing a well behaved good dog like me to that mechanical monster you use on the rugs.
7:28 AM. The human lets me out the door for my morning run. See you later, human!
7:32 AM. Running through the back fields, barking my head off, as happy as I can be. Woof woof woof!
7:44 AM. Stopping in to see Spike the Magnificent, Tormentor of Squirrels. Hello, Spike!
7:45 AM. Spike and I greet each other in the customary canine fashion of a sniff to the hindquarters and begin to converse on matters of the utmost importance. Average speed of a tail wag. The schedule of the mailman. Movements by the squirrels.
7:48 AM. Spike notes that in a few days we’ll have that daylight saving time changeover that the humans hate so much. Changing their clocks, losing an hour of sleep. I don’t get it, Spike. You can’t lose an hour. Time is time. It does not get lost on the way to the store to pick up milk and bread.
7:49 AM. Spike explains that humans have this silly notion of switching clocks twice a year for a pointless reason, and at this time of year, that change irritates them for days on end. You know something, Spike? There are times I find humans to be very, very strange.
7:54 AM. Spike and I agree to keep each other up to date by distance barking as to any sightings of the squirrels, or the presence of the mailman. I don’t know about you, Spike, but I suspect that they’re in on some nefarious scheme together. Maybe it’s the reliable old world domination by smuggling nuts scheme.
7:55 AM. Parting ways with Spike. See you later!
8:12 AM. Arriving at home. Barking to alert the human to my presence.
8:37 AM. I think a nap is in order. Circling around on the living room floor three times before settling down. Because twice is too few and four times is too many.
10:48 AM. Waking up from nap. Too early for lunch.
12:30 PM. The human is having lunch. I have successfully mooched a ham and cheese sandwich from her.
1:38 PM. Out in the front yard barking up a storm at the mailman as he drops the mail off and drives away.
3:21 PM. I use my patented sad eyes trick to get the human to give me an oatmeal cookie while she’s having her tea. Yum yum yum!
4:17 PM. Barking my head off from inside as that infernal squirrel crosses the yard outside.
4:19 PM. The human has opened the door too late for me to get out there and get him. The little bastard has taken to the trees and is using that branch to branch system of intricate squirrel escapes that he knows too well.
6:38 PM. Dinner with the human. She’s thoughtfully provided me with some stewing beef to chow down on. I don’t know what she sees in cauliflower.
8:55 PM. Lying on my back in the living room, pondering life’s great mysteries. Are mail carriers actually human, or soulless replicants seeking to take over the world?
11:38 PM. The human is off to bed. Very well, human. Sleep well, but don’t fret in case I start barking my head off at four in the morning. It’s either an evil squirrel launching their world domination scheme by breaking in, or the wind rattling the chimes outside.