I WAKE UP EVERY MORNING WITH A TONGUE IN MY EAR

I know what you’re thinking.   You’re thinking something along the lines of, “Atta girl!”    No.   The Powers That Be did not suddenly decide to smile upon me giving me romantic tongue in the ear or even a foot rub (which in my humble opinion is way better than anything but a good neck rub.)   The tongue in my ear belongs to my dog, Chaotic Chloe Wigglebottom.   And her idea of morning is sometime before the sun actually makes an appearance.   Which means it is most definitely NOT my idea of morning.   This is prime sleeping time.   At the age of 64 I’ve earned it.   But just try to sleep with a tongue in your ear.    Go ahead.   I’ll wait.    Here look at this while you’re drifting off to dream land.

DSC_0108

So…how’d it go?

What do mean your dog wouldn’t stick her tongue in your ear to wake you up?   How is that possible?   Ok, never mind.   Let’s move on.

Here’s a sample of how the rest of my day goes.

Leave extremely comfy pillow….squeeze  through narrow hall with 2 fat Golden Retrievers.  After being bounced wall to wall like a human ping pong ball by afore mentioned hounds, arrive at front door.   “Go potty outside.”    Lola goes.   Chloe runs out then runs back in because Bob over adjusted our screen door so it stays open for approximately the amount of  time it takes for paint to dry.   We have literally had UPS and other delivery guys pushing the door trying to get it to close before Crazy Chloe can get out help them back to their truck.  (having a 70 pound dog leaning on you while you try to walk can be difficult.   It’s akin to having one leg a foot shorter than the other in that you will tend to lean way over to the side where the dog isn’t)   Sadly to date, no one has been able to push that screen door closed.   It simply can’t be done.   My advice to delivery fellas is bring your wife’s pot roast…let the dogs smell it…then toss it over the courtyard wall in the opposite direction of where you want to go.   That’ll buy you approximately 3 minutes depending on the size of the roast.   But I digress because as we all know,  A.D.D. is a bitch.

Once the dogs are finally both outside I feed, Webster, the African Gray parrot from hell…turn on the coffee pot…kibble the dog bowls and grab and nice bowl of Lucy Charms.   (they’re magically delicious until Chloe finishes her kibble, tosses her front legs on my lap and slams her head into my bowl.   (this happens every morning and I know it looks bad for me because….Hey…I knew it was coming and I still have blue diamonds and pink stars in my lap every day   All I can say is…sleep deprivation does not make for good mental clarity.

After all the early morning crap I head to the shower where some article of clothing I need is always missing.   Today I walked all over the place searching for the plaid flannel shirt I wear over my t-shirt when I’m painting.    I could not find it to save my life so I chose a different shirt.   As luck would have it …turns out I was wearing my plaid flannel shirt.  I dunno.  Don’t ask.

Chloe likes to jump and chase things.   In an effort to curb her car and people chasing (we have an invisible fence so she doesn’t get far) I made the mistake of buying her a frisbee.   One frisbee wasn’t enough because she wouldn’t bring it back so I got another one.   Now all day long she’s at my feet whimpering and pawing with both frisbees in tow.   “Let’s play.   Can we please play?   I really wanna play.   No, seriously, I REALLY wanna chase the frisbee.   RIGHT NOW!”

“I’m busy.   Let me paint my background then we’ll go out while it’s drying.”

“um, no.   That doesn’t work for me.   Let go now.   I’M LOSING MY MIND HERE.!   LET’S PLAY FRISBEE!  PLEASE!”

Throwing the frisbee for Chloe is like going on that show, “American Ninja Warrior”, only you’re not there cuz you wanna be and there is absolutely no prize if you get through the obstacle course in one piece.   Which, you won’t.      Chloe is all….HOP HOP HOP….”THROW IT…THROW IT NOW….HERE JUST GIVE IT TO ME….OK THEN…THROW IT….NO….GIVE IT TO ME.

“Sit.”

“Ok.   I’m sitting.  Throw it!   THROW IT!   PLEEEEASE…my lips are shaking!    THROW IT THROW IT THROW IT!   For the love of milk bones, throw it now!”

The day goes on and on, exactly the same.   I keep trying to write, clean, or paint but some living creature in my house will “always” have other ideas for me.   Some day you’ll see my picture on a milk carton.   And I swear to you, if you find me and tell anyone, I will hunt you down.

Recently I’ve been taking night walks (no dogs) and it’s very peaceful.   Often the skunk who lives under my shed joins me.   He doesn’t pee on me and I don’t hassle him.   We just walk, quietly reflecting on how weird our lives are some days.

Then I go home, go to bed, and sleep like a dead person until I wake up with a tongue in my ear….again.

Advertisements