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 always, the dog gets the first say, as he is so easily distracted.

7:04 AM. Waking up at home. Slept quite nicely. Dreamed of chasing a groundhog.

7:06 AM. An inspection outside of the predawn light. Not many birds around the feeders. A glance at the thermometer gives me pause. Wait a minute, it’s how cold?

7:08 AM. Turning on the television to the Weather Channel, which confirms that this area is indeed that cold today, and that wasn’t just a malfunction in the thermometer. Debating to myself if I should go outside today. Aside from the call of nature, which will have to be attended to.

7:10 AM. That silly forecaster who keeps getting pulled off the air for going into panics and predicting the end of the world every time we get a snowfall is back. You’d think they’d keep him in the asylum after his last recommendation that everyone has to eat from the dead, even if that means killing your great aunt Gladys. Come on, man, we’re Canadians, we can deal with a little snow and cold. Though to be fair I’m planning on sticking close to home today.

7:11 AM. The forecaster goes on and on about something he’s calling HypothermiaGeddon and how we’re all going to die and how nothing can survive the Snowpocalypse. And then he’s pulled off the air. Maybe this time the channel will actually follow through and not let him back.

7:12 AM. Another forecaster comes back on and promises that her colleague will be getting the help that he so clearly needs, urging people to merely take precautions while out in the cold. See? That’s sensible. Going all Donner Party isn’t productive. Which reminds me, I’m hungry.

7:16 AM. Waiting on my human to come downstairs. Because after all, it’s not as if I can open doors by myself or anything. 

7:19 AM. Wagging my tail and greeting the human. Good morning, human! Say, it’s a really cold day today, so I don’t think I’ll spend too much time out there. I’ll even make it easy on us both and not roll around in the snow so you won’t have to bring out the whole Towel of Torment thing. But first things first! Have you given any thought to my breakfast? Because I’m hungry enough to eat a horse. Which is a weird expression. Not as weird as that forecaster saying we’ll have to eat Aunt Gladys. I wonder if he has an Aunt Gladys and this was some sort of subliminal statement of hostility coming to the surface. Anyway, that’s not important! What is important is breakfast!

7:21 AM. Thumping my tail as the human pours me a big bowl of kibbles. Oh boy oh boy oh boy…

7:22 AM. Licking my chops after finishing off breakfast. That was good!

7:25 AM. Asking the human if she can let me out for a bit. I’ll be right back!

7:27 AM. Outside. Definitely as cold as it was predicted. Okay. So let’s take care of business and scramble right back inside again.

7:30 AM. Barking at the door to alert the human to my wanting to come back in. Come on, human, you know how cold it is, I heard you use that colourful vocabulary when you let me out.

7:31 AM. The human lets me back in. I scramble into the living room and to the fireplace. As warm as the house generally is, it’s always warmest by the fireplace. I lie down with my belly to the fire. There’s nothing quite like lying with your belly to a warm fireplace. Unless it includes belly rubs, but as the song goes, we can’t always get what we want.

8:23 AM. The human is out the door to do some chores around the barn. She’s wearing five layers of clothes. Hopefully that’s enough, but I’ll keep an eye out for her return.

8:37 AM. An examination of the calendar indicates we don’t have many days left in the month. Which means February is coming. Which means Groundhog Day near the beginning. I wonder why humans put so much faith in a cranky rodent’s weather predictions. It’s winter. It happens. It ends when it ends, and not based on what a groundhog has to say.

9:02 AM. The human returns inside with icicles hanging off her clothing complaining about the cold. I muse on whether or not I should apply the Towel of Torment to her, but then again, I lack the opposable thumbs to hold it. Well, think of it this way, human. At least your farm doesn’t include animals- except for me, of course- because you’d have to be going out to the barn multiple times a day on a day like this. 

10:33 AM. Mooching a cookie off the human while she has her morning coffee. Yum yum yum!

12:09 PM. The human is having lunch. I am using my patented sad eyed doggie look to convince her to give me a dinner roll. Ham and cheese. Oh boy!

1:29 PM. Barking up a storm at the mailman as he drops off mail out at the box. Whether or not he hears me is another matter, as I am barking from the warmth of the indoors. But a dog’s duties include a serious barking at enemies like the mailman.

4:11 PM. Waking up from a nap. Looking outside. Still looks cold outside. Wondering how many people actually believe in the weather forecasting skills of a groundhog.

5:38 PM. Sitting in the living room while the human is busy cooking. Smells good, anyway, but I’ve seen her handling broccoli. Well, just as long as she doesn’t expect me to eat that.

6:25 PM. Dinner with the human. She’s given me a plate of stewing beef. For whatever reason she’s made hers into what she calls a casserole. I don’t know about you, but a casserole sounds like a totally made up word.

7:31 PM. The human is watching a sportscast with chatter about a Super Bowl and anger in some place called New Orleans about a pass interference. Whatever that is. I don’t know why humans take that game so seriously. They throw a ball around and don’t even let a dog catch it.

8:20 PM. Lying on my back in the living room, staring at the ceiling while my human reads. Pondering the great mysteries of life. Who made up the word Snowpocalypse anyway, and can we give them a swift kick in the pants?

11:43 PM. The human is off to bed. Very well, human! Sleep well, dream good dreams, and I’ll be down here faithfully guarding the place. Unless a frostquake goes off in the middle of the night, in which case I’ll be bolting up those stairs and hiding under your bed.