Where the Wild Things Are

Yesterday’s paczki flour has settled. What happens after a sugar binge? A crash into deprivation. No better time than now to admit things aren’t always perfect overnight in Mayberry with a puppy. Something is…missing.

Raising a puppy can be surprising. Things can seem alright like a bright sunny day that turns into a cool, calm night that welcomes a zombie apocalypse. It comes out of nowhere.

One minute, I’m snuggled under covers I’ve stolen in my sleep from Stockton and the next, a terriable noise fills the air. One of our dogs in her crate whines and bark bark barks, demanding to be let out.

The peace of predawn moments in Mayberry is no more. I’m hushing the dog while experiencing the reluctance of waking up early. I stretch my legs in last-second duvet warmth before tumbling out of bed in unearthly creature movement. Arms outstretched as my eyes don’t adjust in the dark, fingers curled to avoid jams, I locate the crate door and release the terriorist.

Her tail wags with incredible zeal. She’s living the American Dream, no mortgage, a two parent household, healthy, boundless energy and all she wants is love, food, exercise. The other terriorist stays nestled under the reclaimed covers with Stockton. Older and wiser.

I yawn. No towels, need sleepy I think in the alternative universe of delirium that exists in my mind around 5am as I heel-tap down the stairs. Chris Farley probably didn’t do well without enough sleep either. I pad through the kitchen, yearning for coffee.

Stockton and I bookend terrier caretaker duties: he manages the last hour of the evening, I manage the morning shift. The puppy, however, doesn’t follow our thoughtful schedule. A full eight hours rest has been missing from my nights.

I manage to slip into shoes and put on a warm puffy coat before stumbling outside with the dog. She won’t complete her business unattended. She insists on supervision. As she sniffs around the yard, past bushes, along the fence, my bladder compels me to do a version of the pee-pee dance my niece does when she’s trying to complete an activity, dry. I wistfully think of our bathroom one wall away. But I can’t go inside yet. The dog will bark undoubtedly if left outside at this hour, poor neighbors. Poor neighbors? Poor me out here in cold in the time fit for vampires and owls.

With a jingle of her collar, the terriorist leaps up the concrete steps and reaches her front paws to me. Her eyes find mine and she seems to smile. For a moment, I forget I’m freezing and exhausted. For a moment, I’m amused.

A car speeds down the road. Moment over. We clamor back inside. Eventually, we settle on the couch. She gnaws her bone, I snuggle in the coat I’m too tired and cold to remove, trying to find my missing rest. Maybe she will sleep through the night tomorrow.

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16 Comments Add yours

  1. floridaborne says:

    It’s brutal to live in a suburb/city when you have dogs.
    I live in a dog house and the dogs just let me live here. They go in and out as they please and they let me share my bed with them. There are 2 dog crates somewhere, from the time I had to transport my 2 dogs from California to Florida. That was over 20 years ago. Transportation services in the county may suck, but it’s a freedom for doggies that they don’t get in the city., even if it is inside a fenced in acreage. 🙂

    1. “the dogs just let me live here”
      I’m imagining mugs, t-shirts, lawn ornaments…

      1. floridaborne says:

        It would make a great t-shirt. Undoubtedly someone will steal the idea before I get a chance to sell it. 🙂

        (You can tell I’m really, really, worried…)

  2. herheadache says:

    Love the title of this post.
    🙂

  3. floweringink says:

    I love this post. Lovely and humorous. A great read!!

    1. Thank you! The terriers always have me wrapped around their fuzzy paws.

  4. Trisha says:

    The terriorist…I love it! Fun post, although I’m sure it wasn’t so fun to live through. I’ve been losing sleep thanks to our old cat’s morning yowling. It’s not fun in the wee hours!

    1. Cats have the best timing for torturing their owners. They wait for just the right moment to start yowling.

      1. Trisha says:

        So true! My oldest cat has also learned a few new tricks like pooping in the litter box and not covering it. He usually does it as soon as I start something that I don’t want to be interrupted on. Five minutes into a meditation and the aroma of cat crap comes wafting in. Or the yowling starts.

      2. Eee-vil. (Pinky to cheek)

  5. Awe, this was such a cute story (I can say this b/c my Mollie – thank goodness, does not do the middle of the night/early morning barking). It’s always cute when it’s someone else but I can picture myself melting as our eyes meet and finding the humor in the situation.

    1. Thanks Stephanae, I’m glad you enjoyed the post. I admit, I have a soft spot for pets. Mollie sounds like a sweetie.

      1. They definitely bring a lot of joy.

  6. Casee says:

    The other side to pet ownership: Early mornings and backyard relief trips. 🙂

    1. I can’t wait until she grows out of it.

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