A Day In The Life Of A Dog

It is time again for the perspective of the dog and the cat. As always, the dog gets the first say, because he lacks the patience to wait and gets so easily distracted by literally everything.

7:12 AM. Waking up at home. Big yawn. The house still feels like it's in night. How far away is the dawn again?

7:13 AM. A glance outside. Okay, we've got some light coming in the east, but it'll still be a few minutes before the sun shows itself. Looks like it snowed some more in the night. Good. I like snow.

7:16 AM. Thinking of all the things I want to be doing once I get out there for a run. But first things first. Breakfast. Breakfast is the right way to start a day for a good dog like me. And I am a good dog.

A very good dog.

No matter what that cranky cat down the road might say about me.

7:21 AM. Waiting on the human to get downstairs. After all, I can't make my own breakfast. I lack the opposable thumbs to get into the cabinets. More's the pity.

7:26 AM. The human comes downstairs. I start thumping my tail against the floor. Good morning, human! Fine day, isn't it? Say, I don't mean to be too overeager, but have you given any thought to my breakfast?

7:28 AM. The human is in the kitchen pouring me a big bowl of kibble.

Oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy.....

7:29 AM. Licking my chops after polishing off breakfast.

That was good!

7:32 AM. Making inquiries with the human about being let out for a run.

7:34 AM. Out the door and on my way. See you later, human!!!!

7:39 AM. Running through the snow in the back fields, barking my head off. Life is good!

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

7:55 AM. Spike and I discuss matters of great importance. Snow consistency and its impact on dog running velocity. The probabilities of winter weather delaying the mail over the season. The movements of the squirrels.

7:57 AM. Spike tells me his humans are having company over the Christmas holidays. I don't know about mine, Spike. She's got those relations with little children who think I'm a horse. I tend to make myself scarce if they show up, but what if they're around for four days?

8:03 AM. Spike and I go our separate ways as he heads back to his house, and I start the journey back to the farm. Worried about the prospect of little ones pulling on my tail later in the month.

8:23 AM. Returning home. Barking to let the human know I'm back.

8:25 AM. The human opens the door, but applies the Towel of Torment before I can get inside and shake all the snow off my fur.

8:27 AM. Back inside. I don't know why you insist on doing that, human. There is no such thing as wet dog smell.

10:31 AM. The human is having a cup of coffee and a couple of cookies. I succeed in mooching a cookie off her.

12:18 PM. Lunch with the human. She's given me a ham and cheese sandwich. That's good!

1:29 PM. Barking out the front window as the mailman drops off the mail. Get lost, you fiend!

3:02 AM. The human is having tea. I use my sad eyes trick to persuade her into giving me a cookie.

4:25 PM. I can't believe the sun's already gone down. Cold outside.

I expect to be spending a good deal of time this evening hanging around in front of the fire place with my belly in its general direction.

5:03 PM. Watching the human doing Christmas decorations. Say, human? I don't mean to interrupt, but you aren't planning, by chance, to have any of those family people over during the holidays? I mean those ones with kids who think I'm a horse.

5:50 PM. The human is getting started on dinner. Dinner is my favourite meal of the day. In a four way tie with breakfast, lunch, and snacks.

6:37 PM. The human is having beef stew for dinner. Just right for a winter day. She's given me a plate of stewing beef. Life is good.

11:28 PM. The human is off to bed. Good night, human. Sleep well. I'll stay down here. Nice and comfy. Don't worry if you hear me barking in the middle of the night. I tend to bark when snow falls off tree branches, after all.