Tobey & Elliot update

4:30 am.  That’s what time the dogs have been waking me and wife up with their barking.  Yes, we have them in a cage in our bedroom.  Why not put them in the laundry room on the other side of the house?  I’m thinking about it.

I used to stay up past midnight every night and be in at work by 8am with no problem. Not any more.

At 4:30am, the whole house wakes up.  The routine: take the dogs outside so they can do their business.  Immediately after that, feed them.  Then, back outside for a second bathroom break.  After that…hook up the leashes and harnesses.  Me, wife, Phoebe the alpha Yorkie, Tobey and Elliot take a mile and a half walk through the empty, dark Madison neighborhood streets in hopes of tiring out the pups. We only delude ourselves in this because these dogs NEVER GET TIRED! 

By the time we get home, it’s too late to go back to bed, but it’s too early to go into work.  We end up watching morning news…which usually sucks. Wife sips her Coke and plays solitaire on the computer. I sip my coffee. The dogs continue to bounce around the house chewing on anything and everything.  Finally, off to work.

Ah, work…a respite from the dogs. But like a man returning to Dracula’s castle at sundown, I know they’re waiting on me, ready to pounce when I return. Usually, wife already has them out of their playpen and is letting them fight with each other in the kitchen.  Dinner is one eye on my food, another eye on the dogs to make sure they don’t chew through an electrical cord.  After dinner…it’s another mile and a half walk. This time, as if we weren’t masochistic enough, we add the lab/retriever dog to the walk. So picture this image: me walking Phoebe the alpha Yorkie who’s leading the way, wife in the middle walking Tobey and Elliot trying to alternately bite each other or bite Phoebe, and then me with Callie the lab bringing up the rear because at age 12, she doesn’t have the stamina to keep up.

I start the day and end the day in the vain hope that I can outlast a house of dogs.

Not that I’m complaining, mind you.  One look at Elliot rolling on his back to let you rub his stomach, and I’m wrapped around his little paw.  I’m such a sucker. And at least I’m getting into shape.