My new dog – much like his young master – is not a morning person. Most times, anyway. If it’s Saturday or Sunday, he bullies me awake at 7AM on the dot. But during the week brings another story. Take this morning. I have to catch a 7AM bus to the city to be at work at 9AM. So I am up at six, take my shower and go to feed him and let him out. (This is because the son does not get up until eleven or so.) And this week, his cousins – Seamus and Harley – are staying with us, so we are feeding “dogs”. I come out of the shower this morning, dress and go downstairs. Seamus is lying quietly in the living room and Harley is retrieved from his cage on the porch. Noah is nowhere to be found. I gather the dishes and wash them. Still no Noah. I fill them with kibble. Nothing. I head upstairs to Chris’s room and find the beast sprawled at the end of the bed, staring at me. I jostle him, pull on his paws and threaten his health (I have a bus to catch!). Nothing. Chris is asleep and the dog is just not ready. “Really – five more minutes.” Yawns at me. Luckily Seamus followed me up and had a word with him. Noah is soon slowly following us down the stairs… and plops on the floor. Not moving. Spreads himself out. Food is put down for all dogs and are scarffed up quickly by the other two. Noah wanders over, looks at his dish and lies down in the Dinning Room. Seamus and Harley finish breakfast and Seamus walks quietly over to Noah’s bowl. Suddenly, he is up and growling. Now he eats… grudgingly. I let the other dogs out, brush my teeth and gather my stuff. The dog finishes and I hustle him out the door. Made my bus by a whole minute. Welcome to my morning routine.

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