There is nothing worse than (except perhaps a colonoscopy/endoscopy two-for-one deal) your so-smart-he's-stupid standard poodle running up and down the wooden stairs at 5 a.m., when you don't have to be up for another two hours, and especially when you consider sleep to be a very rare commodity.
So, there was Gryphon, our lovely standard poodle who is often mistaken for a golden doodle because we don't do the frou frou haircut and style poofy thing with his hair, and he's making spins on the hardwood as he races up the stairs to our bedrooms, frantically sniffing under every door, and then races back down the stairs. A couple of minutes later --- clack, clackety, clack clack --- back up the stairs he comes, and the scene repeated itself again.
Gryphon in one of his quieter moments. Note the innocent look on his face. Don't be fooled.
I have not slept through a night since I was first pregnant back in 1994. It's a way of life for me now. I'm a very light sleeper, and I'm okay with it. Usually. As long as I don't get woken up too early, or unnecessarily.
This wake-up call was both those things.
Being the thoughtful and kind dog owner that I am, and seeing as Mr. Handsome was in a coma, and Dee was lying in-between us, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, I decided it was going to be up to me to make sure the dog didn't actually need to pee.
Just as I was getting up, Em opens the bedroom door, her fingers through Gryphon's collar. As pissed off as I am, because she too doesn't need (and let me add, does not want) to get up this early, she says, "I don't know what he wants, but he woke.me.up."
I take the idiotic dog, who by now is extremely excited that two of his humans are up and ready to go, and we go downstairs, and I open the damn door and tell him to go and pee, and it had better be a good one. He squats, and about 10 seconds of pee comes out. Ten.Seconds. Then he comes happily frolicking back up to me, smiling widely, so happy to greet the new day.
In he romps, and looks up at me expectantly, the look on his face saying, "Okay! That was fun! Now what?!" And he runs in a circle and lets out a bark.
I thought about going back to bed, but when I had gotten up, I remember Dee was sprawled out over half of my side, fully clothed (he's gotten into this awful habit of sleeping in his jeans and t-shirt, and if he does it again, I have warned him that I will personally waterboard him), so I quickly decided I'd probably get more shut-eye by staying downstairs and lying on the couch. I also had this feeling Gryphon would continue coming up the stairs, and I didn't have the heart to shut him in his crate, so I lay on the couch, covered myself up to my ears, and tried to salvage what little was left of my sleeptime.
I'll let you in on a little secret. You see, the trick to getting back to sleep is the coverage. You must cover yourself all the way up with a soft blanket, past your chin, and to your ear level, preferably at least mid-ear level. There is something about coverage that makes all the difference. I swear by it. You're welcome.
Before I knew it, it was time to get up. And I was not a happy camper. I felt as I did when faced with nursing a newborn every two hours, 24 hours a day, seven days a week. I guess my body is trying to tell me something. Or maybe it's time to teach the dog how to tell time.
And now, it's 9 p.m. as I write this, and it's time to afdasdfkljas; oruidsafkjfda zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...
I am a 46-year-old mom of two amazing children and wife to a wonderful and very patient man, and a lucky friend to many. I am a Realtor and a writer, but have also been a journalist, editor, and daycare provider. Not every day is a good day, but I sure try to keep smiling.