It’s Monday, although I’m not quite sure how we rolled around to that again. I beat the alarm clock, shutting it off before it woke my husband. The dog doesn’t have such a button, unfortunately, but he is fairly quiet in his enthusiasm to go out. The house was open last night, and someone left the screen door in place. Sand from the yard makes it scrape as it slides in the track.
Weather sounds like rain this morning, and that’s OK. I like the wind, the soft bluster in the trees. No birds at the feeder today; they must still be nestled in. While the dog prances around in his little kingdom, I make coffee. The running water sounds loud in the quiet morning house. Breaking into a new container of coffee, washing the pot, because…. well, you always have to wash the pot. My coffee-drinking adults taught me that as a young child, and even though I have never had a coffee habit, never had a taste for the stuff at all, I can’t make coffee unless the pot is clean.
Last night’s laundry is still damp, so add the sound of the clothes dryer to the morning. The beast wants his breakfast and the rapid “ping” of kibble echoes as I pour it into his bowl. He crunches steadily, with purpose, but no longer urgent and protective of his portion. He’s the only dog now, and that’s finally settling in. The coffee pot starts to sputter.
It’s still early spring – at least here in Michigan. The furnace kicks in to take the morning chill away. Kibble is followed by a generous lapping of water, though this dog makes almost no sound when he drinks. Now he shakes himself out, his collar and tags rattling, his nails clicking across the floor. Breakfast is done and he wants to go back out.
I putter around, watering a plant here and there, enjoying the orchids blossoming on the dining room table. I check my tote bag for the workday: items in, items out, fill my water bottle. I’m thinking I should fold laundry, but really not wanting to do it. Maybe I’ll write a blog post; I almost have time…..
The soft sound of computer keys whispers in the morning twilight. I’m not usually one to turn lights on if I can get away without them. I prefer daylight and the soft illumination it gives. No TV or music for me now, just quiet while I unwind from sleep, into the day. Let me think about going back to bed while the covers are still warm and before the day is fully awake.
Our furry companion is ready to come back in, barking on the porch as if no one will remember he’s out there. He is among the most attended, loved, cuddled creatures ever. There was no chance he would have been forgotten, but when he’s ready, he’s ready. I try to get to him before he wakes my husband.
Back inside, fur-boy wants to perform and get a treat, his dessert after breakfast. His enthusiasm makes the floorboards creak. Clearly, his Monday morning energy surpasses mine. He makes quick work of the little biscuit and pads off to the bedroom. An excellent idea, my friend.
(c) 2019, J. Cools