A Day in the Life of Madeline

Welcome to Dog Week on THIH! Check out the Monday’s post (peanut butter frozen yogurt treats) here and Wednesday’s post (15 Lessons I’ve Learned from Our Dogs) here.

Hello hello hello! Madeline here! While the Jessie-beast is busy cleaning up the bits of paper towel roll I helpfully scattered across the kitchen, I figured I’d bang out a few words about my daily life. Sorry about any spelling mistakes, chaps. My un-clipped nails give a new meaning to the term “hunt-and-peck”.

My day begins sometime between 4:30 am and 5:45 am, when I crawl out from under the people-beasts’ bed, ignore the luxury dog bed they bought for me, and creep up the custom-made stairs onto the people-beast bed.

My favorite spot is between their pillows. If one of their big heads is in my way, I’ll push it repeatedly until it moves. Never fails.

The Peter-beast tends to leave his pillow unguarded. It’s my responsibility to keep it warm until needed again. If he wanted it, he would move me (and he never has.)

If I feel a mite peckish, I may start smacking my lips to make sure the people-beasts know. Or give a tentative lick or two on an exposed nose or hand. It’s only right to let them know how hungry I am. They may be hungry, too. In truth, I’m saving them from imminent starvation.

As soon as I detect life, I start hopping all over Peter-beast. He’s easier to mold than the Jessie-beast, who’s as tough as chilled steel. Peter-beast will feed me in no time. And so he does: He’s up and hobbling down the stairs, and I guide him to my food bowl by running laps around his feet.

In less time than it takes to devour a half-pound of almonds or a cup of red lentils, I finish breakfast. Perhaps the human-beasts will give me some of theirs? I charm the Jessie-beast into dropping a raspberry on my head. I’m almost sure that was intentional. A red stain on my fur is a small price to pay for an after-breakfast snack.

Peter-beast leaves for work and Jessie-beast leaves for a meeting or client session, and Ye-of-Long-Hair (the beasts call her “Bonnie”) and I are left alone. Those are the days I wish I had opposable thumbs. At least then I could play Donkey Kong or something.

But on the days the Jessie-beast works from home … hot dog! There’s nothing better than hanging out next to her and pausing for play breaks. If I really want her attention, I’ll stare at her until she notices me.

Around 1 pm, if the Jessie-beast is home, I’ll start working on her for dinner. I know dinner’s at 4 pm, but maybe, just maybe, I’ll get it at 3:59 today.

If the weather’s good, we’ll go out for a walkies! (And by “good weather”, I mean “there’s currently not an Apocalypse occurring”. The people-beasts stay in when it’s hot or raining. Such frail creatures.)  The Jessie-beast bought me this harness so I wouldn’t choke when I help her walk. It’s a good thing I’m there to assist. She’s so slow otherwise.

After walkies, it’s time for my third or fourth nap of the day. Not sure which. It’s hard to keep track when you’re upside down.

4:01 pm hits, and I’m on the Jessie-beast like a terrestrial remora. She measures my food – measures! – and I devour.

I don’t understand why she bothers doling out my food. I’m just going to charm treats out of her later. Nicely done, dietitian-for-people-beasts.

The rest of the day is a happy blur of comfortable laps, generous head rubs, and another nap or two. When it’s time for bed, I jaunt past this old thing

and cram myself into the space between two chair legs, where I’m sure to be protected from marauders, watering cans and Ye-of-Long-Hair.

I can’t wait for tomorrow!