A Day In The Life Of A Dog

Once again it is time for the point of view of the dog and the cat. As always, I begin with the perspective of the hound, who after all gets so easily distracted.

7:04 AM. Waking up at home. Slept well. Dreamed of chasing a mailman until he jumped into Niagara Falls.

7:07 AM. A glance outside. The sun’s not up yet, but there’s enough light for a look. Some birds around the feeders, no doubt wondering how long it’ll be until the seed runs out. Fortunately my human keeps it pretty well stocked. More snow’s fallen overnight too. That’s a good thing, because I want to get out for a run and roll around through it.

7:13 AM. Waiting on the human to come downstairs. Because aside from getting out for my morning run, my first priority must be breakfast. And as I lack the opposable thumbs to open the pantry door, I must leave it to her to prepare my breakfast. Besides, even if I could get into the kibble bag, I don’t think I could be trusted to gobble down just one breakfast worth of it.

7:18 AM. Listening to sounds coming from upstairs. Good, my human is going to be downstairs soon. And that means breakfast will be forthcoming. And that means I’ll satisfy my present state of hunger… at least until I’m ready to mooch at lunch.

7:24 AM. Greeting the human with a furiously wagging tail as she comes downstairs. Good morning, human! Fine day, isn’t it? Say, have you put any thought into my breakfast, by chance? I’m just saying.  I mean, it’s been ten hours since I last had a morsel to eat, after all. And that’s seventy hours in dog hours.

7:25 AM. Thumping my tail on the floor of the kitchen as the human pours my bowl full of kibbles. I’ve been looking forward to this since I woke up. Oh boy oh boy oh boy…

7:26 AM. Licking my lips after finishing off my breakfast. Boy oh boy, was that good!

7:28 AM. Inquiring with the human as to if she’ll let me out for my run. 

7:30 AM. Out the door and on my way. See you later, human!

7:36 AM. Running through the back fields, barking my head off, as happy as I can be. 

7:53 AM. Stopping in to see Spike the Magnificent, Tormentor of Squirrels. Hello, Spike!

7:54 AM. Spike and I confer on all sorts of matters. I tell him that my human had two grand-nephews and three grand-nieces with their parents around the house over the holidays- and all of the kids ages, not adults. Which meant I spent the better part of my time hiding, because the last time they were around, I had ribbons tied in my tail and they were calling, doggie doggie doggie half the time. I don’t know why humans have kids, Spike, I’m sure glad my human never did….

7:57 AM. Spike tells me he had seven of the grandkids around the house chasing him half the time during the holidays. Seven? And I thought five of them were bad enough. You know, we dogs have to be patient and put up with a lot… I mean, if you ask me, sometimes giving one of those brats a bite on the leg isn’t that bad an idea, but we end up being called things like bad dog if we go and actually do it.

8:02 AM. Spike and I agree that we’re glad the holidays are over. Even if some of the debris is still out and about. I mean, my human hasn’t put away the Christmas decorations yet. Well, Spike, I’d better get going. I mean, humans do need us to keep an eye on them, after all. But I’ll keep you up to date by barking if I happen to see any of the squirrels today.

8:19 AM. Returning home. Barking to let the human know that I have returned. Human! It is I! Loki, Chewer of Slippers and Annoyer of Mailmen!

8:21 AM. The human has only just let me in after applying the Towel of Torment to my fur. Come on, human, why can’t I just dry off naturally? And don’t go talking about the smell of wet dogs. There is nothing wrong with the smell of a wet dog.

8:24 AM. Settling down in the living room for a nap. As always, I turn in a circle precisely three times before lying down. Because two is too few times, and four is too many.

10:56 AM. Waking up from my nap. Startled to see that the human has been clearing up some of the Christmas decorations. I wonder if I can convince her to get rid of the Elf On The Shelf once and for all this year. I mean, it’s such a judgmental know it all tacky little bastard to begin with, and I’m convinced the evil little cretin is watching me.

11:39 AM. I am supervising the human while she’s putting decorations away. I’d help, really I would, but I think we both know that Christmas ornaments don’t do well under even the gentlest of pressure from canine teeth. 

12:08 PM. The human is done with the work and is starting off with lunch. I use my mooching eyes trick to convince her to give me a couple of dinner rolls. Mmmmm, ham and cheese!

1:31 PM. Launching a vicious assault of barking on the mailman as he’s dropping off mail at the mailbox. Get lost, you vile fiend! Don’t ever come back! 

He drives away, not even acknowledging my warnings. Coward!

3:25 PM. Mooching a couple of cookies off the human while she’s having afternoon tea. Yum yum yum!

4:39 PM. Staring outside at the falling snow. Human? We have enough dog kibble in the house, right?

6:38 PM. Dinner with the human. She’s cut up some nice pieces of roast beef into bite sized chunks for me. I find it perplexing why she insists on having cauliflower with hers, but as I’ve thought on many an occasion, humans can be quite weird.

8:28 PM. Lying on my back in the living room, pondering the great mysteries of life. Did the squirrel start our eternal war, or was it the dog?

11:48 PM. The human is off to bed. Very well, human, good night. I’ll stay guard down here overnight. In between naps. And wondering why it is you persist in bringing out that evil Elf On The Shelf thing every year.