Staring always works
This morning, while Mook A was eating his cornflakes, we were watching the Michael Jackson coverage on CNN. We dogs are endlessly fascinated by what preoccupies you humans. Nukes in North Korea? No. Slaughter in the streets of Iran? No. Slaughter in the streets of Honduras? No. The death of a hasbeen pop-star who, no matter his previous accomplishments, was one step away from dying on his toilette like Elvis, so many drugs was he doing. Sorry if you're grieving, but it is worth a bit of a giggle out here in Dogland.
Unlike my afternoons, evenings and nights, when I pretty much sleep, my mornings are very varied. I always get up with Mook B and harass him relentlessly until he takes me out for a piss. This is easy to do: he tries to read his paper, I sit in front of him, placed just so, and stare at him. He tries to take his morning dump, I come into the bathroom, sit just so, and stare at him. I've found with both Mooks that they are incredibly vulnerable to this kind of thing in the bathroom. My theory: they feel guilty that they are allowed to relieve themselves whenever they want while I have to wait until my kidneys are humming and my bladder is all but exploding.
On the mornings with the nurses...well...that's always fun. But the mornings when there is no nurse's visit and Mook B goes off to work, I just sit and wait in the kitchen—on the cold, cold floor (the fuckers!)—until Mook A decides to shift his aging, dimpled, fat ass and get up. But there is pleasant variance in this too. If he gets up to get up, then we watch TV or he tries to read a book while I sit, placed just so, and stare at him. It's great fun, because there is nothing like loading stress on a human first thing in the morning (ie: will I or won't I piss/shit/puke on the floor/rug/furniture). Humans are hi-larious when they're all stressed out in the morning, especially these two with their aches and pains and smokers' coughs—rushing those feeble bodies outside becomes a symphony of grunts, belches, farts, hacking and wheezing, moans and bitching (particularly amusing if it's pouring rain).
The other variance with Mook A is if he's just getting up to pee. Feeling lazy (and guilty) he always invites me back to the bed to nap with him. This is almost as good as a bath because he has this big thick duvet that just wraps around you, warms you up and makes the sighs of pleasure come out of you whether you want them to or not. This qualifies as bliss in the world of the Mooks.
Sad, innit?
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