A Day In The Life Of A Dog

It is time once again for the point of view of the dog and the cat. As is always the case, the dog gets the first say, before he gets distracted by squirrels or the sound of the cookie jar opening...

7:04 AM. Waking up at home. Slept exceedingly well. Dreamed of foiling the world domination plot of the squirrels and getting all sorts of commendations and bravos for it, including a belly rub from the Queen.

7:07 AM. Looking outside. Sunny skies. Nice clear weather. Oh, good. No rainy days that’ll cut short my excursions. Like we’ve had for the last week.

7:10 AM. Deciding how far afield I want to go on today’s run. Do I want to stop in and say hello to that cranky cat from down the road? Do I stop by Mrs. McIntyre and mooch some cookies off her? Do I go out and check out to see if there are any mud puddles around? There have to be mud puddles. We’ve had enough rain in the last six days to make more than a few.

7:16 AM. The human comes downstairs. Hello, human! Fine day, isn’t it? Not a cloud in the sky. I can’t speak for you, but I’ve got a real interest in getting out and about and having a run. But priorities first. After all, a good dog like me needs a good breakfast to start the day. And I am a good dog. Oh yes, I am…

7:18 AM. Thumping my tail in anticipation as the human starts filling my bowl with kibbles….

7:19 AM. Licking my lips after wolfing down the entire bowl. Five seconds off my fastest ever breakfast, but not bad if I do say so myself.

7:22 AM. Say, human? How about you let me out? That way you can have your breakfast in peace and quiet and I can go work off some energy and explore the woods and seek out mud puddles and… forget anything about the last part.

7:24 AM. Out the back door and off for a run. See you later, human!

7:37 AM. Running through the back fields, barking my head off, feeling as happy as I could possibly be.

7:43 AM. Coming across a sizeable mud puddle. Lots of mud and water and it looks like it’ll be fun to roll in, even if it means getting subjected to a bath afterwards. What to do, what to do…

7:45 AM. Rolling around in the mud, thoroughly pleased with myself.

7:56 AM. Okay, that’s enough, Loki. You’ve still got things to do, places to be, people to see, and all that. Departing from the mud puddle. Boy, was that fun.

8:03 AM. Passing by the house where that cranky cat lives. Musing on whether or not I should go on up and say hello, but in retrospect, I’m probably not presentable enough, caked in all this mud, and she doesn’t strike me as the sort who indulges a slob.

8:12 AM. Stopping in to see Spike the Magnificent, Tormentor of Squirrels. Hello, Spike!

8:13 AM. Spike asks if I’ve ever heard of the notion of not rolling around in every mud puddle I see. But what would be the point of that, Spike? Are mud puddles not put there so that we dogs can indulge ourselves in them?

8:15 AM. Spike suggests that my human’s pretty much going to have to give me a bath when I get home. Oh, come on, the mud’s drying up by now. I can go on in, take a nap, and give myself a good shake inside. Sure, she’ll need a broom to sweep up the dusty dirt, but is that such a bad thing?

8:21 AM. Parting ways with Spike. We agree to keep each other updated on any signs of the enemy squirrels, as well as the presence of the mailman. You never know when that vile fiend is going to do something unexpected like… changing his delivery time on us.

8:39 AM. Returning home. Barking to alert the human to my presence.

8:41 AM. Despite my attempts to sneak in past the human, she is faster than I could have compensated for. Thus it is that I am presently out on the lawn, being subjected to the attentions of the garden hose as she washes me up. And you just know there’s going to be follow-up from the Towel of Torment.

8:55 AM. Settling down in the living room for a nap. Will dream of mud puddles.

12:17 PM. Mooching a dinner roll from the human as she has her lunch. Yum yum yum!

1:32 PM. Barking up a storm at the mailman as he drops off today’s mail. Get lost, you monster!

3:44 PM. The human is having afternoon tea. I am busy using my patented mooching eyes to convince her into giving me an oatmeal cookie or two. Because after all, isn’t that what a good dog deserves? And I am a good dog. A very good dog.

6:28 PM. The human has made dinner. She’s thoughtfully cut up some sausage for me. I don’t know why she insists on having hers with peas, but hey, humans can be a strange lot, can’t they?

9:28 PM. The human's watching the Weather Network. Something about active weather. I don't know, I'm really more caught up in the great mysteries of life- such as whether or not mailmen have souls.

11:50 PM. It has been twenty minutes since the human went upstairs for bed. In those twenty minutes, a thunderstorm has shown up outside, with lightning flashing and terrible loud booms and… oh the caninanity of it all. Which is why I’m cowering under the human’s bed at this moment, whimpering. Oh, sure, give me a mailman to bark at or the town mayor to chase up a tree, and I’m perfectly brave, but a little thunderstorm and I’m like it’s the end of the world. Human? If the lightning breaks in here, is it such a bad thing that it’ll hit you first?