Doggie Sunday

 

I thought it might be interesting for you to hear a bit about a typical Misty Sunday.

We wake up with Mommy's alarm at 7:00.  As soon as my bathroom duties are done and my Bible read, we head out for the Bark Park.

credit David Chapman

Today, in a bit of an unusual twist, we were near the creek that runs through our complex (stream might be a better word, but whatever) when I spotted a frog in the street on a still gloaming, muggy morning.  I sent Misty to the 'rescue', and to her delight, the frog came out with a good Calaveras County leap.  With Misty in pursuit, three such bounds took it to the safety of the bridge edge and into the water.

It was soon sprinkling, but not bad enough to take us out of normal routine.  And that routine is: into the park, run around like crazy (after taking care of her 'bathroom duties'), and eventually get bored with no one else there.  About 15 minutes of this is enough, and she runs up to me, barks, and heads for the gate.  Sometimes a walk follows, but as I said, it was raining, so we head back.  Still thinking about the frog, she thoroughly scans the bridge area for her frog, even pondering a trip into the water.  About this time, though, a dove resting on the bank takes off and scares crap from her, and we go home.

She curls up at my feet as I work on the week's Bible Study, post the Better Part, and sign in for Church.  I get her her handy dandy "Church Bone"...

...and I move the computer screen around so she can watch her eyelids on my lap while I watch the service.  Because if I don't go over to the big chair to watch, she'll sit my lap at the computer chair, which isn't terribly comfortable for sitt-er or sitt-ee.  As we sing the closing songs, I start the Sunday cleaning: wash some dishes, clean the stovetop and the microwave, and sweep the kitchen and dining room of "a whole 'nother doggie (worth of shed hair)", all the while she sits at my feet (or underfoot).  Then we take out the trash- her favorite job, as she goes out with me to 'help'.  And she knows what's a trash trip and what isn't- she goes right to the dumpster with me, and turns right back when the bags are tossed in.

After lunch, it's daddy-doggie naptime, and then we get up and watch RedZone, message back and forth with my son KC about football, and lay about until Mommy gets home from work.  This usually involves me getting barked at several times until she's sure I've noted that Mommy is, indeed home.  The rest of the afternoon would be spent watching the race (but not this week because, of course, it's 'Dega, and 'Dega always gets rained out.)  From there, she has one last highlight- the every night 7 PM Pupperoni.  Broken into several parts, she shakes hands for two, waits without moving for one, catches two more, and takes the last one gently from my mouth.

In between all of these is scattered playing, and at least one point where she absolutely goes nuts- which almost by definition involves me having to chase her up and down the steps at breakneck speed (hers, not mine).  Following this is coma-mode, in which she tries out various sleeping positions anywhere from 'almost human' to 'roadkill victim'.  Soon enough, day is done, and she leads the way up to bed.