Good Morning

We've had several dogs in our married life time. Here is a little description of what mornings were like with Samantha, our Golden Retriever.

A wet nose nudged my hand that was hanging off the side of the bed. I patted her head and yelled at her, “Go to bed!” I pulled the covers over my shoulders, rolled over, and tucked my hands under the

puffed-up pillows.

A few minutes later – it could have been an hour; the bedroom window was still dark – she nudged the upper part of my arm on the other side of the bed. Suddenly, a glow from the early morning dawn started to peak through the blinds.

“Ok, girl, I guess it’s time to get up.”

Her tail beat against the wall like a tom-tom on a drum. “Your tail is dangerous,” I replied to the summons while rubbing her ear. She ran to the bedroom door, then back again, as if to say, “Hurry, hurry, hurry – I’m starving.”

I stepped into my slippers, pulled my robe over my head, and shuffled out to the kitchen.

“Go to bed!”

She obeyed as she bounced on the deformed square of foam. She sat there looking at me with wild anticipation in her eyes. Her ears were half up, the tip of her tail was dusting the cover, and she looked like a Marine at attention. Drool started to drip from the side of her mouth, and she let it drop onto the sheepskin cover next to her leg. I’m glad it was her bed and not the kitchen floor. She didn’t care, she was used to rolling in grass, and leaves, and dirt, and poop; why should she worry about salivating all over her bed.

I scooped two cups of the same old dry little pellets into her dish, set it down on her bone-shaped mat, and said, “Ok, check your dish!”

She bounded forth and devoured the food in 30 seconds.

The wake up - the wanting - the wait, all for a few morsels of food that disappear whole - ahh, a full tummy. It's going to be a good morning.