I’m participating in Write ALM’s Prompt-a-Day for the month of February. Feel free to join us!
Today’s prompt is
The rhythms of our lives are tied to those of these sweet doggies who occupy our space. There isn’t much of a sleeping in when the babies decided that they want…or need…to go out. Don’t get me wrong – they are pretty tolerant of our habits of sloth. While they are used to getting up around 6:30, which is when Sweet Husband has to generally roll out of bed to get ready for work. 6:30 is early for a weekend, though. Full puppy bladders and rumbling puppy tummies can only wait so long, which means that somewhere between 7:30 and 8:00, nails begin clicking on hardwood floors and the lone tail starts to thump against any available surface – the bed, the dresser, the floor, the wall, a hand dangling over the edge. If none of that persuades a human to open their eyes and throw back the covers, tactics change a little.
The one with the tail starts to throw her considerable 75-80 pounds against the bed, a solid thump each time her hip connects with the bed. She combines it with the thumping tail, and it’s almost as if a car with an amped up bass has come to a stop right inside the bedroom. The one without a tail begins to attempt a sneak attack on the bed. He clicks around the bed, trying to figure out where the best spot to make his first foray. He has a massive chest, not quite configured to agility and stealthily making his presence known although he is surprisingly ninja-like when he wants to be. If we do not respond to his paws, first one and then the other, coming up onto the bed, then he pushes the weight of his 80 lbs onto those two front legs, raising himself up until his back legs are extended and can scramble up on to the bed.
Once he makes into the bed, it’s over; no one wants to be covered in Bulldogge slobber. So I roll out and get dressed, letting our two four-legged children out the door while I scramble to get food in bowls. When I go to open the backdoor, I have to strategically place myself to the side so I don’t get mowed down when the doggies come tearing through the door, racing to get to their breakfast.
This whole exercise hasn’t really been about going outside and answering the call of nature. It’s really been all about food. If they could figure out how to convince us to feed them without the nonsensical trip out in the relative chill of a Gulf Coast morning, they would be much happier puppies.
As soon as they are done eating, their lazy selves are passed out again, sweet and sleepily warm while I am left unable to go back to sleep. Once I am awake, I am awake. As I finish their awakening rituals, I begin my own: grinding coffee beans, putting on water to boil, flipping on the television to watch some news – or some reality wedding television (I don’t know why it’s wedding reality tv – Say Yes to the Dress, David Tutera Unveiled, Bridezillas – it’s awful), reading some blogs, and then settling in to do some writing of my own.
At least on the weekends.
I used to say that I got up at 5:00 in the morning because it took me so long to wake up. I liked having 2 hours or so to slowly come to life – to read the news, to have some coffee, to think, to absorb what’s going on with me and in the world before I have to be a part of the world. I get to do that on the weekends. I don’t get to do it during the week, which is perhaps when I need it the most.
How do you wake up to the world around you? Each day? or more metaphysically?