I once took a survey that asked, “What’s the first thing that enters your mind when you wake up in the morning?”
My answer to that question was “I’m going to kill the dogs.”
They start in before the sun is even up. I finally have Mia sleeping until 7:30 or so, but they are scratching, biting, whining, sighing, farting, shaking at 6:00 every morning without fail. When I open my eyes, I can see only their tails, standing straight up, like shark fins sticking out of the water. They move from one side of the bed to the other, until one decides to jump up and put their paws on the edge of the mattress (it’s normally Darcy). Most of the time she will just sit there and stare at me, inches away from my face, maybe whine a little bit, but every now and then, she licks my cheek with her slobbery doggy tongue and scratches the crap out of my arm with her nails.
UUUUGGG. Some days.
I’m thinking about dropping them off in the woods hundreds of miles away from here and just telling Caleb that they ran away. On some days, he might take that kind of news fairly well.
We would never do that of course. Ever.