Silence.
The soft pink morning sunlight outside the window is sneaking in through the blinds. It's peaceful. No sounds of traffic, not one person running a lawn mower or pneumatic nailer. It's so quiet I can hear my the soft breathing of my wife and baby girl. I stir, ever so slightly, just to look over at them sleeping.
whumpwhumpwhumpwhumpwhump
"huh?" I think, almost out loud, still not quite awake.
whumpWHUMPWHUMPWHUMPWHUMP
"Oh" I say, not meaning to actually open my mouth.
WHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPA
WHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPA
WHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPA
WHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPA
WHUMPA....
The dog is now awake. She's not standing at my bedside like she used to (a single bark emitted a whole three inches from my face each morning for the first year, sharing morning dog breath as a wake up call). Instead, she is laying on her microfiber-filled bed, her tail thumping loudly on the side of the dresser. Every movement or sound I make is evidently translated in her mind to be "it's time to get up and eat! and go out! and play!" The tail thumping the dresser only grows more foreceful, the noise greater. I really just want to go back to sleep for ten more minutes.
"Hershey, go to sleep" I say, hopefully eliciting the right response.
WHUMPAWHUMPawhumpawhu... silence.
For approximately thirteen seconds.
WHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPA
It's far better, really, than an alarm clock. I cannot shut it off, and I have to get out of bed to make it stop. I swing my legs to the side of the bed and pad my way to the bedroom door, trying not to wake Heidi or Caroline. The dog has no such intentions.
She jumps to her feet, collar tags jangling with the rapid movement. I put my "SHHHHH" finger up to my lips, as if the dog knows or cares what I'm doing. She shakes her body awake like she's shaking off a hundred gallons of water, throwing the jangling dog tags into a metal frenzy.
I've stepped out into the hallway at this point, hoping that Heidi and Caroline are still sleeping, but feeling Heidi's eyes on my back, knowing I should have moved just a litle bit faster. I'm sure she'll be back to sleep in a few seconds. The dog continues her percussive reveille into the hallway.
She bounds, Tigger-like, down the hallway to the gate blocking her path. As I open the gate, she tears full-speed into the kitchen, sliding and clicking her nails across the lineoleum floor to the breezeway. Her only thoughts are food and getting outside, but which to do first?
We make it outside first. The yard cloaked in heavy dew glistens in the now-orange sunlight, inviting me to visit with the rising sun in solitude. Nearly .006 seconds later, Hershey breaks free from my grasp and rockets, barking, across the yard toward the chubby squirrels on the ground by the back fence. "So much for a quiet sunrise", I mutter, heading back inside to put out food and water for her breakfast.
I check to see that Heidi and Caroline are now, again, fast asleep. I decide to bring the dog inside before I get ready for the day, but now she is on a Mission to Get the Squirrels who have long since excaped the yard over the fence. Phantom Squirrels are all that's left, and Hershey is ripping up divots in the yard chasing something only she can see.
Back outside, I call to her.
"Food?"
She stops instantly, staring across the yard at me with glassy black eyes. I have spoken magical words, releasing the genie to grant her wishes. She hesitates, making sure it's real.
"Food? Wanna Eat?"
Dirt flying, the morning dew split like water in a powerboat's wake, she sprints for the door, tail whipping side to side in nearly supersonic mode. She leaps through the doorway, skidding across the concrete garage floor. Up the couple steps to a closed door, her tail wagging so furiously I'm afraid I'll get injured.
"Sit!"
She thinks," yeah, whatever.. get me the food!"
"SIT!"
Fine. She sits, granting me access. The door is hardly open and she bursts through, head like a battering ram. 90 degrees later, she's parked in front of the food and water.
She's sitting. Looking up at me as if to say, "Now?"
"Good girl," I say, patting her on the head and scratching behind her floppy ears, "go ahead and eat."
She dives in, hesitating to look over her shoulder just once, wondering why I'm still there.
I head back to the bedroom, just to check on the Sleeping Beauties. Soft breaths of sleep emanate from the room. I turn to the bathroom, ready to scrape the stubble from my face in preparation for another workday.
The dog trots around the corner, looking into the bathroom and at me.
She sits. Staring at me like she wants to say something.
"What, Hershey?" I ask.
She stares. I look at the clock. 7:30AM. I look out the window and listen. Silence.
I turn to look at the dog, expecting the WHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPAWHUMPA of her tail on the floor, but she's nowhere to be found. I quickly shave and wipe off my face.
"Hershey?" I whisper, just loud enough that she stirs in the darkness of the bedroom. She's back on her bed. Curled up like a puppy, head barely tucked under her paws. I can only see her glistening eyes, asking me to please quiet down. Back in the bathroom, I stare out the window.
Silence.
I close my eyes and it hits me. It's saturday.
I pad my way back into the bedroom, hoping I won't wake anyone, hoping I'll be able to get back to sleep.
whumpawhumpawhumpawhum...
"Hershey, go back to sleep" Heidi says.
whumpawhum...
then back to sleep.
Posted by MEK at September 12, 2003 01:12 PM