My mornings -- both workday and weekend -- should be, by all accounts, relatively simple. Get up, shower, coffee and toast, walk the dog, feed said dog, fix lunch and head out the door.
And they would be except for the fact we own a Drama Dog.
Despite the fact that our routine hardly ever varies, except perhaps for an occasional change in walking personnel due to illness or vacation, Ben seems to wake up every morning convinced that The Morning Walk, which he so dearly loves, rain or shine, WILL. NOT. HAPPEN. EVER. AGAIN.
He then falls into a canine fugue of epic proportions.
And this is what I contend with in the morning.
Skepticism: This is the stage where he's convinced he will never again see daylight, breathe fresh air, chase a squirrel or pee on tree.
Followed by Resignation. Yes. Life as I know it will never be the same.
But then comes Plotting: Let me think about this. There's more than one way to skin a cat.
Feigned ennui: Maybe if I look like it really doesn't matter. . . .
But then IT begins. Gut-wrenchingly Cute Moments (GWCMs). At least one involves Ben laying his head on the newspaper page I'm reading.
GWCM Combined with Piercing Stare. Killer.
Victory! The walk is (of course) happening. High Fives all around!
And off we go.
Again.
Like every other morning.
Ben rocks!
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