It is time once again for the point of view of the dog and the cat. As always, the dog gets the first say, because he gets easily distracted.
7:04 AM. Waking up at home. Taking a big stretch while I yawn. Slept well. Dreamed of chewing on dinosaur bones while paleontologists were yelling at me.
7:06 AM. A quick look outside. The dawn is happening later and later now. And the days seem to be getting shorter and shorter. A bit of chill in the air all the time. Trees are starting to turn colours.
7:09 AM. Looking forward to getting out there for a run. Priorities first, though, Loki. Breakfast must be seen to, but the human has to do that for me. First, I happen to lack the opposable thumbs to open the pantry door. Second, if I could get into the pantry and raid the kibble bag, I probably couldn’t be trusted to finish at one helping.
7:13 AM. I can hear the human upstairs moving about getting ready for the day, so I’ll be nice and patient and await her arrival. Because I’m a good dog. A very good dog. Oh yes I am. Despite what the vet and the mailman and that cranky cat down the road have to say.
7:27 AM. The human comes downstairs. I wag my tail in greetings. Hello, human! Fine day, isn’t it? Say, have you given any thought to seeing to my breakfast?
7:28 AM. Watching the human getting my breakfast ready. Oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy!
7:29 AM. The human puts my bowl of kibbles down on the kitchen floor. I commence eating.
7:30 AM. Licking my chops after finishing off breakfast. Boy oh boy was that good!
7:33 AM. Inquiring with the human as to if she’ll let me out the door for a walkabout.
7:35 AM. Out the back door for a run. See you later, human!
7:42 AM. Dashing through the back fields, barking my head off, as happy as I could be. Nothing bad can possibly happen today, if you ask me, and of course you are asking me.
7:56 AM. Stopping by to see Spike the Magnificent, Tormentor of Squirrels. Hello, Spike!
7:57 AM. After greeting each other in the customary canine fashion, Spike and I compare notes. We remark on how many days before the first frost will show up. Can’t be too long now, what with cooler morning temperatures.
8:01 AM. Spike and I confer on the movement of the enemy. The squirrels seem extremely busy at the moment on nut hoarding activities. There must be some reason for it- aside from the onset of cooler weather, because that can’t be the only reason. Surely it must be something nefarious, like world domination.
8:03 AM. Parting ways with Spike. We agree to keep each other up to date by the barking system as to any movements of the enemy. Fortunately, the mailman isn’t coming around today, what with it being a weekend, or we’d be giving him such a barking that he’d never want to come back down this road again.
8:15 AM. Trotting through the woods, as pleased as I can be, on my way home. I’m looking forward to getting home, having a nice nap, that sort of thing. I always say, you can never have too many naps.
8:22 AM. Slowed down considerably on the path by the presence of a turtle ahead of me. I’d veer off the path, but there’s poison ivy in those woods, and I always get confused by how to identify it. So better safe than sorry. Say, buddy, could you speed it up a bit?
8:43 AM. Barking at the back door for the human to let me in. She opens the door, checking to make sure I haven’t been rolling in mud puddles or splashing about in the water. Come on, human, you know me better than that. Then she lets me in. I happily head in. You know, it might seem a bit odd for me to say, but I had the strangest feeling I was being watched.
12:08 PM. Mooching a dinner roll from the human while she has lunch. Ham and cheese always hits the spot for a good dog like me. And I am a good dog. A very good dog.
2:40 PM. Lying on the back deck, snoozing away, dreaming well. Nothing can possibly go wrong now if you ask me…
My reverie is interrupted by two simultaneous and unwelcome things. My snout getting hit by a claw and a hiss that sounds like something that came forth from the seventh circle of hell. I yelp, jump up, and open my eyes. And standing there on my deck is that cranky cat from down the road, glaring at me.
2:41 PM. The cranky cat keeps her claws out as a warning not to approach and delivers a stern warning. Something about threats of sending the skunk after me if I ever bother her again by waking her up or intruding on her property. Oh, and something else about how do I like being yowled awake. I could be completely wrong… I’m not fluent in cat, after all.
She walks off the deck as if she owns the place.
I’m too stunned to even bark.
2:47 PM. The human lets me in. I’m still in a befuddled state. Come on, I didn’t deserve getting clawed and hissed at. I mean, barking at the cat and shaking off water and mud? That’s just a dog being a dog.
3:05 PM. Still busy processing what happened. Did the cat really mean what she said about the whole sending the skunk after me? Why would a skunk do a cat a favour? Should I be worried?
Of course not. I’m sure it’ll all be forgotten in a few days.
6:32 PM. Dinner with the human. Enjoying a few chunks of stewing beef. The human’s been thoughtful enough to held some back from that stew stuff she’s made for herself. I don’t know, human, why would you spoil some perfectly good meat by mixing it with vegetables?
8:09 PM. Lying on the living room floor while the human is on the couch reading. Pondering the great mysteries of canine existence. Did the belly rub come before the wagging tail, or after?
11:28 PM. The human is off to bed. Well, good night, human. Sleep well. I’ll keep a guard down here for the night. In between naps. Because naps are a good thing. But if Jack Frost decides to start painting the grass out there at three in the morning, you should probably know I’ll be barking up a storm.