A Day In The Life Of A Dog

Once again it is time for the perspective of the dog and the cat. As always, the dog gets the first say in these matters...

7:03 AM. Waking up at home. Dreamed of running through fresh snow chasing a rabbit. And then the rabbit stopped, turned to me, and started lecturing me on bad manners and giving him more of a head start. And I don’t even speak rabbit.

7:06 AM. Looking outside at the pre-dawn light. Fresh snow down, the birds are around the feeders, and there’s more light now than there was a month ago. Plus the human has been going on and on about something called daylight saving time in a few days, so that’ll mean switching the clocks around. I don’t know why humans do that. It just makes them grumpy and more importantly confuses the internal clock of a good dog like me. And I am a good dog. A very good dog.

As long as you ignore that cranky cat down the road and the town’s mayor and the vet and the mailman. Don’t trust a word any of them say to you. Because they’re all out to get me. 

7:09 AM. Looking at the calendar. The human has it marked as Pancake Tuesday. Which means we have pancakes tonight for dinner. Which makes me happy. Which means the universe is in balance. Which means all is good with the world. Hmmm, I’m getting a little philosophical, aren’t I?

7:12 AM. The Weather Network guy is predicting a 100% chance of pancakes and maple syrup and smiling at the camera. If it was that crazy guy they had on staff who kept predicting the world’s ending every time we have five centimetres of snow, he might be screaming about pancakes plotting to take over the world and sacrifice the humans in a pool of molten maple syrup.

7:14 AM. The human comes downstairs. I start furiously wagging my tail in delight and saying hello. Fine day, isn’t it, human? Have you given any thought to my breakfast? Because between you, me, and the fly on the wall, I’m famished. It’s been a whole ten hours since I had that cookie you let me eat.

7:16 AM. Thumping my tail against the floor as the human prepares my breakfast. Oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy….

7:17 AM. Licking my chops in satisfaction after wolfing down a big bowl of kibbles. And managed to do it within three seconds of breaking my all time fastest eaten breakfast record too.

7:19 AM. Inquiring with the human as to if she’ll let me out for a walk. I mean, I’ve just wolfed down that good breakfast, so I’m going to have some energy to burn off.

7:21 AM. Out the door and on my way. See you later, human!

7:28 AM. Running through the back fields, barking my head off, as happy as I can possibly be. 

7:39 AM. Pausing in the woods listening to a bunch of birds in one of the bushes carry on a loud conversation. I wonder what they’re talking about- after all, I don’t speak bird. Maybe they know something about a coming spring that I don’t know.

7:45 AM. Dropping by to see Spike the Magnificent, Tormentor of Squirrels. Hello, Spike!

7:46 AM. After the customary doggie greetings, Spike and I get to talking about the vital issues of the day. The movements of the squirrels and what they might be up to. Whether or not the mailman might have died in his sleep overnight. And most importantly, which tastes better- an apple pancake or bacon pancake.

7:52 AM. Spike agrees that this ritual of changing the clocks twice a year is foolish and peculiar. It only agitates the humans and throws them off balance, and for what? Well, Spike, I’ve decided quite some time ago that humans have quite a capacity for being foolish and peculiar.

7:57 AM. Spike and I agree to keep each other informed as to any sightings of the enemy. We might still have a lot of snow around, with more to come, but after all, the days are getting longer and spring will show up. 

Eventually. 

Someday. 

And when it does, those squirrels are going to be up to their usual tricks and nefarious schemes of world domination. 

And only we can stop them.

8:01 AM. Parting ways with Spike. He tells me he’ll give a heads up when the mailman passes by.

8:14 AM. Stopping by the property where that cranky cat lives. I wonder if she’s somewhere visible, or having a nap out of sight. I mean, if you ask me, and you ask me, cats nap a lot. Maybe even more than dogs do.

8:16 AM. I have spotted movement in a second floor window, and sure enough it’s that cranky cat. She’s hissing and howling at me and no doubt saying a whole lot of awful things about my parentage. I wonder why she dislikes me so much. Is she just antisocial? Is she anti-dog?

It couldn’t have anything to do with my repeatedly barking her out of a sound sleep or shaking my wet and muddy fur off in her vicinity? No, of course not. That would imply I’m a bad dog, and we all know that I’m a good dog. Right? Of course right.

8:18 AM. Departing from the property and no doubt the cranky cat is staring at me like she’s throwing daggers. Probably a few last insults and slurs too. I will never, ever understand what makes a cat tick. They’re even weirder than humans.

8:32 AM. Returning home. Barking to alert the human to my presence. Human! It is I, Loki! Annoyer of Mailmen and Chewer of Slippers! Open the door!

8:34 AM. The human has finally let me in after giving me a vigorous application of the Towel of Torment. I don’t know why she does that. I mean, there’s no such thing as a bad wet dog smell, no matter what she says.

8:41 AM. Circling around in the living room precisely three times before settling down for a nap. Because two times is too few and four times is too many. 

12:03 PM. The human is having lunch. My mooching eyes technique has successfully gotten me a ham and cheese sandwich. Yum yum yum!

1:30 PM. Barking up a storm at the mailman as he drops off things at the mailbox and keeps driving. Get back here, you coward! I haven’t finished barking at you!

6:32 PM. The human and I are having dinner. She’s been really good and has made bacon pancakes, cut into nice pieces for me. Yum yum yum!

11:06 PM. The human is off to bed. Good night, human. Sleep well. I’ll stay down here and guard the house against any squirrel intrusions or tree branch rattling against windows in the middle of the night. In between naps.