Henry is our dog.
8am - Keep one ear pricked for footsteps over head.
845am - Hear footsteps, bound upstairs. Face me grinning from ear to ear. Wag vigorously. Whip Echo with wagging tail while she pees. Get scolded.
847am- Wait while Echo gets dressed.
850am - Bound downstairs, watch with sheer perfect joy as one scoop of kibble tumbles into the bowl.
902am - Squeeze out dog door to pee on tallest possible grass. Bark at anything that looks like a dog on a leash even if its two blocks away.
1030am - Sleep completely on back with eyes closed and all four feet straight up in the air.
1135am - Find me and ask for lunch. Get told it's not time yet.
Lay on living room rug instead of dog bed as a sort of signal that he's waiting.
1201pm - Ask for lunch again. Receive it! Also receive one thyroid pill dropped in the back of the throat.
1245pm - Slip outside the gate, sniff the alley for cat poop.
315pm - Follow me everywhere lest he be forgotten in the departure. Get underfoot. Silently scream impatience with bugged eyes.
401pm - Hear "Wanna go to the river?" Leap awkwardly. Receive chest poundings and teasing, like a helmet on the head.
430pm - Stand on shore of the Clark Fork river and wait for passing objects. (We won't toss sticks for Henry because he gets too hyper and knocks down children. But we will toss rocks at passing sticks and trash to help him see them.) Retrieve flip flops, sticks, beer cans plastic bottles, anything that floats.
701pm - Endure, impatiently, a towel-down, then gobble up the last cup of kibble.
702pm - Hump dog pillow. (Bella, 11 years, "What's Henry doing?" Me, "He's humping." Echo, 5 years, "He's humping for joy.")
703pm - Hump dog pillow in the yard because one of the parents tossed it out there.
710pm - Linger near kitchen in case the cook drops anything.
715pm - Sleep
1130pm - Wake up for thyroid pill dropped into throat and goodnight gushes of love.
12am - Deep sleep.
Wake up and do it all over again!