Early morning, even before 5. Daddy leaves to get an early start with his work. I let the puppy out to potty and put him in his crate. The other pooches snuggle up in the bed, also thinking we would get a little more sleep before the pup decides he is hungry. We are quiet in the stillness of the cool, wet morning. We doze as birds began to sing, one dog under my left arm, the other under my right, one curled in my legs.
Then it happens. The sound of a dog about to throw up on the bed pierces the silence. I jump faster than lightening, hoisting the offender out from the covers and onto the bare floor, our reverie broken.
I don’t think there’s any sound that is powerful enough to awaken sleeping folks and dogs faster than the sound of a dog about to hurl.
Next comes the whine of the pup and the insistence of all to be fed and relieved. Such is the morning.