A Day In The Life

It goes like this:  Whine, whine, whimper, whimper. It’s about six in the morning and the dogs want in. My husband gets up, opens the bedroom door and climbs back in bed with two dogs who want to be under the covers and cuddled up close.  The little one can’t quite get herself off the ground anymore so she needs a lift.

About an hour later, I get up and one of the dogs get up with me; Rita.  She wants to go outside and she will not take her penetrating eyes off either one of us until she is let outside. About fifteen minutes later she is at the door barking to be let in.  She won’t stop barking until we let her in. In the meantime, Maggie, the little one, is still under the covers in our bed. We can’t see her because she is small and nestled down at the bottom of the bed.

Rita is back in the house now, feet cleaned off and dried and she heads for the kitchen. She comes to me with those penetrating eyes that say “how could you possibly let my water bowl go dry? Where is my breakfast?” I fill up the water bowl and the food bowl and go back upstairs. In the meantime, Maggie is still tucked away under the covers.

I get my coffee and go into my office. Rita follows and sits right next to my chair. She nudges and I pet her as I read my emails. She nudges more and whines if I stop for a second. She nudges, whines, and paws my leg until I am doing nothing but a dog massage. Then I say “enough” and I do my best to ignore all the whining, pawing, and nudging. Suddenly a bird fly’s by the window and Rita fly’s off the floor and tears around the house barking as if the bird is in the house and she can’t find it. In the meantime, Maggie has belly crawled up from the bottom of the bed and is now still tucked under the covers but with her head on a pillow.

I get Rita to quiet down and I continue to check emails, facebook, my web site. Rita now needs to go outside to chase the bird that isn’t in the house after all.  She is relentless in her whining. When I look at her she is all wiggly, tail going a million miles an hour, feet barely on the floor, huge wide eyes begging me to run down stairs and let her out! “All right!” I holler. “All right! I can’t stand it anymore.” I go down and open the door. She tears out, barking like she’s possessed.  In the mean time, Maggie is snoring and I can hear her all the way down stairs.

Twenty minutes or less and Rita is back at the door barking to get in. I mean she wants in right now and nothing short of barking herself into unconsciousness is going to stop her. Nothing. I let her in. She follows me upstairs but I make a quick unexpected move and get in my office before she has a chance to. I shut the door with her on the outside and me on the inside. There! I proudly go to my desk and check my calendar, get things caught up, start to write by can’t because I can feel her eyes penetrating my back, pleading to be let in. She nudges the glass doors. Dog nose print on the door now. She paws it. I try to ignore her. She whines, rattles the door with her paw, burns a hole in the glass with her eyes. I can’t stand it. I let her in. In the mean time, I’ve forgotten all about Maggie, snoring away with her head on my pillow.

I’m writing and petting Rita and it’s suddenly noon. I need to get something to eat and get a shower. Rita follows me to the kitchen where I try and eat without having to share it with you know who. She gets the last bite. We go upstairs so I can shower. She thinks about coming in with me but backs out at the last minute. By the time I’m showered and dressed it’s close to one o’clock and suddenly I realize Maggie is still in bed. I go pick her up and set her on the floor. She doesn’t move so I finally pick her up and carry her down the stairs and out the front door. But she won’t leave the porch. I get Rita and the leashes and we all go for a walk.

When we get back, Maggie heads straight for bed. Rita follows me upstairs, sits in her place next to my chair and I try and get some writing done, doing all a person can do to ignore the persistent dog sitting next to me. Eventually she gives up and takes a nap under my feet.

Thank God!


Mary Ann

2 thoughts on “A Day In The Life

  1. You know that without your dear Rita, the dog of endless entertainment and need, yeah you might get more writing done but you would have no one to keep you company.
    Poor little Mags..how old is she now? 8? 9?
    You are a blessed woman to have such great companions.

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