It’s a dog’s life

The other morning started out just like any other. Ginger woke before my alarm and decided she would starve if she didn’t have breakfast, now. After much whining, nose-prodding, and a few licks, I finally gave in and groggily made my way to the kitchen to feed her and let her outside.

We both stumbled back to bed.

A few moments later, my alarm sounds and it’s time to start the day. As I drag myself out of bed, push my glasses into place and sleepily brush my teeth, Ginger remains in bed. I make myself some tea, make the bed and prepare for the day ahead. Ginger lays in bed.

Sleepy puppy.

Just about the time I’m getting dressed, Ginger decides it is time to rise. She stands, stretches, yawns and pads across the house to the living room where she resolutely lays down on her other bed.

I dress, then address my messy hair and apply a bit of makeup before stumbling into the kitchen to find something for breakfast.

About this time, Ginger realizes that she doesn’t want to be awake quite yet, so she moves from her living room bed back onto her bed in the bedroom, much quieter in there.


As I pack my bag, locate my keys and try to wake up, I cajole, coax, and convince Ginger to come out of the bedroom (if I leave the bedroom accessible while I’m gone, she inevitably decides that our bed is more comfortable than hers). At this point, she flops down on her bed in the living room once more and sighs as I give her ears a scratch before I head out the door.

Some days, I want to switch places with my dog, I think I’d like her morning routine more than mine…

Ginger sleeping on the porch.

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