Adoption Wasn’t Supposed To Involve a Baby
Nobody told me that I could
become a dog lover fall in love with this dog. His ears, his facial expressions, the way he snuggles in his “bed” all afternoon, and the way he leaps around like a little deer in the backyard.
Also? Nobody told me that no matter how old the dog is, bringing home a dog is like bringing home a baby. I have cleaned up poop and puke. I have baby talked, shushed, and comforted. I have begun sleep training and been awakened entirely too early every morning. Actually, that’s not true.
I am awake at five every day and would love to get up at five and do my thing (run, spin, or blog and drink coffee). I have done this successfully for nine years. I sneak out of bed, tiptoe to the bathroom, don’t flush, get dressed in the dark, run the brush over my teeth, and head out the door while the rest are sound asleep.
But now? When I open my left eye and peek at the other side of the room a pair of little white ears perks up and I get a stare that says, “Is it time to play yet?” And if I even sit up in the bed he freaks out.
Letting him out of the crate is like letting a bull out of the stall, only he’s happy. He goes crazy. And although he isn’t barking, he is noisy. Two seconds alter, Hayden comes stumbling out of his room, pretending to be well-rested, ready to greet Arthur. It’s sweet, really, but those two are worn out and I am growing more cellulite-y by the day.
I how do I sneak past this dog in the morning?