A Day In The Life Of A Dog

It is time once again for the perspective of the dog and the cat. As always, the dog has the first say.

7:03 AM. Waking up. Slept exceedingly well. Taking a big stretch and yawning. Glancing at the clock. You know, it’s a lot lighter out right now than it was this time two weeks ago. It puzzles me as to why humans change their clocks, back and forth, twice a year. All that does is get them cranky and good dogs confused. Good dogs like me. Because I am a good dog. A very good dog. As long as you don’t pay any attention to anything being said by the mailman, the vet, that cranky cat down the road, or the town mayor. Because they’re all out to get me.

7:05 AM. Scanning outside through the front windows. No signs of squirrels, but I know they’ve been busy lately. Getting those nuts and acorns and all that other stuff packed away in their hidey holes for the winter. There must be a reason for it. Aside from eating over the winter, because let’s face it, they gorge themselves at the bird feeders all the time. Which reminds me, if they’re eating this much, why aren’t they gaining too much weight? I mean, they can still outrun me, which is a source of personal irritation if you ask me. And you are asking me.

7:09 AM. Waiting on the human to come downstairs. I have heard her moving about upstairs, so I know she’s awake. I’m looking forward to breakfast. It’s been a whole nine hours since I scarfed that cookie without her knowing, and I’m hungry.

At least I think she didn’t know.

7:18 AM. Thumping my tail furiously against the floor as the human comes downstairs. Hello, human!

7:19 AM. Following my human into the kitchen. Say, have you given any thought to breakfast? I’m just saying.

7:21 AM. Waiting with great anticipation as my human pours a big bowl of kibbles. Oh boy oh boy oh boy….

7:22 AM. Licking my lips after polishing off my breakfast. Only six seconds off my all-time fastest devouring of breakfast record. Not bad, not bad…

7:24 AM. Inquiring of the human if she might let me out. I could use a run, after all.

7:25 AM. Bolting out the back door when the human opens it. See you later, human!

7:38 AM. Running through the back fields, barking my head off, as happy as I could be.

7:47 AM. Stopping in to see Spike the Magnificent, Tormentor of Squirrels. Hello, Spike!

7:49 AM. Spike and I confer on the movements of the enemy. He spotted two squirrels having an argument on his lawn earlier, but his humans weren’t awake yet, and he couldn’t get out and chase them. Lousy bastards, if you ask me, Spike, daring to show themselves when we’re inconveniently locked inside.

7:54 AM. Spike and I discuss the likely extreme long shot chances that the mailman might get buried in a landslide before coming down the road this afternoon. Given that it’s not likely to happen, we’ll just have to give him a serious barking at when the time comes. Speaking of time, it’s flying, so I’ve got to get back and check in with my human. See you later, Spike!

8:04 AM. Passing through the woods near the home of that cranky cat. I think I should have a look and see if she’s about.

8:05 AM. Have emerged at the edge of the trees. What falls before my eyes is something out on the lawn… something moving, something smaller than that cranky cat.

It’s a squirrel!

Do I stalk? Do I bark my head off?

What to do, what to do…

8:06 AM. Barking my head off and bolting at top speed towards that squirrel. The squirrel outruns me to a nearby tree and starts to chatter at me. Get back down here! You heard me! Get back down here and face me, you little coward!

8:19 AM. Continuing to circle around the tree while the squirrel taunts me from above. Reproaching myself for giving in to the instinct to bark. Well, in all fairness, I am a dog, and as a dog, I do like to bark.

8:25 AM. Staring up into the tree while the squirrel chatters away, insulting me and casting doubt on my legitimacy. Consider yourself lucky that dogs can’t climb trees, you little bastard.

8:47 AM. It’s no use. That squirrel isn’t coming down, and I can’t stay here all day. I glare up at him and fume. One day, squirrel, one day you’ll screw up and let your guard down. And when that day happens, I’ll be there. And you won’t be laughing anymore. I turn, look at the house, and see the cat in the window glaring daggers at me. Oh, don’t give me that. You must hate squirrels as much as I do. With that, I take my leave of the property.

9:05 AM. Barking at the back door for the human to let me in. Human! It is I, Loki… Chewer of Slippers and Annoyer of Mailmen! 

9:06 AM. The human lets me in after asking where I’ve been. Well, if you must know, I was yelling at a squirrel. He started it.

12:11 PM. Lunch with the human. My mooching eyes have convinced her to give me a dinner roll with ham and cheese on it. Yum yum yum!

1:29 PM. Barking my head off at the mailman as he once again has the audacity to drop mail off at my human’s mailbox and drive away. And don’t you ever come back, you hear me, you monster? You hear me? Never come back!

6:36 PM. Dinner with the human. She’s made my favourite. Bacon pancakes. I for one am thoroughly pleased.

8:43 PM. Lying in the living room near the fireplace, warming my belly, contemplating the great mysteries of life. Were squirrels put on this earth to forever torment and pester dogs? Because I can’t see any other purpose for their existence.

11:27 PM. The human is off to bed. Well, good night, human. Sleep well. I’ll keep an eye out down here and protect the house. In between naps. And if you happen to hear me barking up a storm at four in the morning, it’s because that damned squirrel is on the outside windowsill.