Morning compromise. Went to bed at 9 to be up at 6. We both took naps.

Sneezing etiquette

Orion sneezes.
"Oh my goodness! Well God bless you!" I pat his head.
"Notice how I didn't bite your face?"
"Just saying."

"Not on my clean clothes!" I yank my pants out from under Orion's hovering form. "You know I have very little sympathy for you when you've been eating cat poop. That's disgusting. If you wouldn't eat cat poop you wouldn't be puking."
He hucks up a pile.
Gross.
Still gagging.
My brows are furrowed.
Puke pile two.
He's lining up for three.
"Okay, now I'm feeling sympathetic. Come on baby, just settle down."

A Whole Day.

Waking up to a wet willy is getting to be a bit too common place. One wet tongue swishing around in my ear. My hand shoots up and swats like I would a fly. Orion just moves along to my chin, exfoliation time. By about the time my eye socket feels as if it will stiffing close with all the dog slob I begrudgingly wake.

"What time is it?"

I reach behind me for the phone cord, fishing it up like a line at the bottom of a well. I press a button to illuminate the screen and squint at the bright light.

"Five forty?" I tip the light towards his looming brown eyes. "Seriously?"

He answers by stepping in the inside cove of my hip, forcing an involuntary sit up.

"It is too early."

I flop down and shove the pillow over my head. 

A wet nose burrows under.

"If I feed you will you let us sleep?"

His ears perk, I drop the phone back into the depths, and roll out of bed, skipping the glasses all together.

Bam! I stumble, cursing.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! What the hell?!"

This is a regular routine. While I do this every night, I still happen to forget I leave his crate door open, consequently causing early morning cursing and more bruising to my limbs.

Food bowl is filled, I flop back in bed.

Thirty minutes go by, I get another face lick. 

This time I just start laughing. 

"I know all you want is for me to be awake, and the minute I get up, you're going to start yawning. Come here you cute dog." I pull Orion over and rub his ears.

"What do you think we should do today? Dog park? Tomorrow you get to play with your favorite cat, but today, we have to decide what to do."

Orion lowers his elbows onto my rib cage. For a moment I can't breath. I pull an arm, that had snuck back under the covers, out, and grab for the curtain string. Distracted, Orion frees me to stare out the window.

Unintentionally, I doze off again.

Face lick.

"Oh, right. Good morning best friend dog. Yes, I'm having trouble getting up. Thank you. Yes, thanks, I think I may have missed a spot in last nights shower... okay!" Back out of bed. Fill the food ball up, head to the bathroom to snag a shower, confident the food ball should keep him out of trouble for the brief time he is unsupervised.

At the dog park I watch Orion sprint after his favorite chocolate lab Oliver as they race after ducks in the "back forty". I smile as I know he is in heaven, full sprint, hot on pursuit. There's a moment where I don't know if it's pursuit of ducks, or pursuit of Oliver, but the expression is the same level of excitement. That's the thing with owning this dog, he is in a perpetual state of happy dog. His tail flops side to side on walks. His ears perk for treats. He blissfully destroys cardboard, plastic, toys, shoes... and so on. But he is happy and I can't help but feel happy too. 

As I look the two labs are making laps in the back stream. Oliver appears to do a face plant but is quickly up again, water flying around. I'm not sure if there is an objective here so much as validation that these two dogs are water dogs. And then they're back, flying down the field to come say hi, slamming into our legs, shaking out their wet fur, chewing on each others faces.

We stop in at Auntie Lynn's. Laundry and breakfast and good company. Orion runs in the house, sliding to a stop at Lynn's feet. Bobbing up and down, butt wiggling side to side, he gives Lynn a handful of kisses. "Well hello Orion," she says, and pats his head. Then he's off, exploring every crevice of the house he just visited last week. Who knows, maybe something's missing, something's new.

Like usual, I look up to see him carting Lynn's shoe across the living room. 

"Orion, drop it."

I wander after him.

"Drop it."

"You need to be a little more firm with him," Lynn says behind me. "Give it here Orion! Drop it!" He drops the shoe, Lynn collects it and puts it back. Orion walks up to her and starts licking her hand again. "I'm not mad at you, but you need to leave that shoe alone." Lick. Lick.

"I think the trouble is that he knows inside, I'm giggling at him. I think it's funny and I just can't help it," I say. "I don't know how I'll ever do it if I have actual kids." 

"You turn your body away so they can't see you smile."

Then were back at the dog park, the leash becomes a chew toy. Orion and Oliver race up and down the grass way side-by-side attached to the leash. Then they're sumo wrestling, in the air, on the ground. Orion lays down to roll over and chew on Oliver's neck. Getting lazy. Jack, the rescue wild dog, runs up and chases Orion off. Butt tucked, Orion does a loop and is back, barking at Jack to chase him again. Jack, the sheriff of the group, seems to roll his eyes at this yellow dog barking in his face, then makes an effort to seem menacing with a jump bark, that only results in another loop. Before too long, Orion pauses, turns around, and bolts for the center of the gated area. I am wondering what has possessed him to leave the fun of Oliver and Jack only to see him flop in the water. Oh my water dog. He lays there, poised, presumably thinking we don't notice the white dog that is frozen in his "Mexican Standoff". Moments pass and his paws start moving in slow motion. He's creeping. 

"Yep, don't see you. Hum, Bob, have you seen that yellow lab around?" 

He keeps creeping.

Oliver pauses, dips his head. They both freeze.

Then as if a gun goes off Orion flies forward and jumps on Oliver.  And they're off again, tumbling through the mulch.

Piling into the car, I tuck Orion's blanket into the seat edges. 

"Is that his seatbelt?" Bob asks behind me.

"Yeah. I'd die if he wasn't hooked in. Every now and again I get lazy and it's a miracle we're not dead yet as he climbs all over the place."

I hook Orion in, jump in the front seat, and before the car's even started Orion's curled up, out cold.

"I'd say it was a good dog day huh Orion?"

An eye opens.

I smile back at him.

Grumble grumble

The lights are out. The fan hums above my head.
"I'm hungry," I say.
Orion looks at me.
"I could go for a nice dinner." I picture mash potatoes, green beans, stuffing... "Too bad I'm not taking care of myself food wise." I think about how I told myself I should eat a veggie a day, how I should take the time to cook, how well I was doing right after I left my parents, how I gave myself permission to spend more on groceries because I ate more and better and just felt better. Then I think about how I lost the motivation, how I open the fridge and wish a normal meal would appear, then grab a piece of Irish soda bread and tell myself I need to grocery shop.
"I could go for a piece of Irish soda bread right now," I say, feeling my stomach grumble in grumpy emptiness.
Orion's still just looking at me.
"I am hungry."
Orion groans.
"You too?"
His ears perk.
"I could go get a piece of Irish soda bread and get you a little pile of kibble along the way, what do you think of that? I mean I did just brush my teeth and we could just sleep and wake up and eat breakfast." I think of cereal. Blah. Do I have any yogurt? Na, but I would have the Irish soda bread...
Orion gets up off the bed.
"Huh. Okay then." I swing my legs out from under the blankets and plod off to the kitchen.

Entertain

"Honey, I know you want me to pay attention for you but you need to take a nap. I have to get some work done. We'll go for a walk at three."
A big stuffed turtle gets crammed in my lap.
I bend down and kiss the boy's nose.
"I know. I think you're wonderful, but, I have to do some drawing. Can you try to entertain yourself for a bit?"
He huffs off. Grabs a stick. Chews that for awhile. A plastic plate. Rips the tag off his bed. Gathers the bed under in in a bunch. Eats the peanut butter lid.
I look over.
His head has dropped.
Eyes are closed.
Limbs sprawl up against the wall.
He's down for the count.
I smile.

Tame the beast

The long black leash flops along in access over the street lamp lit sidewalk squares. Orion's yellow butt wobbles side to side with happiness. We're night walking he and I. I'm rattling on about this and that.
"I love the way the street lights illuminate sections of the sidewalk."
"Doesn't it just seem artistic?"
"I mean, we could be in a movie of our life right now and it would be good cinematography."
"Or, if we could paint this, you and I, walking along the streets at night."
"Just saying. It's cool. I wish I could photograph our silhouettes too. Check out how awesome my hair shadow is."
"I also like how you always seem so damn happy trotting down the street."
"Hey Orion? I love you. You know, just incase no one told you that today, I'm letting you know."
"Hey Orion? I also think you're pretty damn cute."
"You're lucky too, because you can be a handful sometimes."
"Thanks for being so nice to me yesterday though. I wasn't in my best place."
We walk along. Orion grazes as he does at the last street on the block. Best grass in the neighborhood. An occasional leftover container too.
We cross the street and loop back along the dark side. Orion jolts and takes off. I brace. Ground my legs. Lean back. The leash is flying through my hands. I am waiting for it to reach it's max length. Please don't snap. Please don't snap. I'm watching. A bunny is streaking across a front yard. Orion is hot in pursuit. I'm wielding a tiger on a thread. I start to rotate as he goes flying towards the rabbit. We're making a circle, my back leaning like a water skier. Bunny cuts left, all I'm catching is a fluffy tail. And he's crossed the sidewalk and is attempting to take me across the street with him and the fleeing bunny.
Please don't snap.
I think of my feet.
Roots.
Your feet are roots.
I weighed Orion today at the petstore. He is officially half my weight now. I went and bought a milkshake.
Roots.
The leash holds.
I start laughing.
If this were a movie...
If this was a scene from Molly's life...
"Well you sure gave that little bun bun a run for his money huh?"
Orion's panting.
"That was the best ever? I bet it was. It's not every night we chase rabbits."
I laugh.
Collect the excess leash and step forward. Forward towards the street light.

Parenting.

I hear a bang.
I'm in the shower.
I'm assessing.
What could he have gotten into? The container on my desk? The door is ajar. Something in the kitchen? The gate's across the kitchen. Could he have gotten into the closet and is gorging himself on kibble?
I really want to shave. The dinning room windows are open. I don't want to have to go dripping wet after him.
I squirt shaving cream in my hand hoping he'll catch the smell and come running. Razor blade dodging little pink tongue and nose that is licking up the cream.
"Orion, I'm doing your favorite thing!"
I'm getting desperate.
Frustrated too.
How many months till 2?
And yet just this morning I was thinking how much I have loved spending time with him these past two days and how wonderfully snuggly and kind he's been...
Damn. He just blasted me with gas (side note)
No go on the shaving cream. I shut off the water, loosely wrap the towel and head dripping start padding down the hall, wet footprints trailing in my wake.
Make it pass the kitchen.
Gate's up.
Living room's empty.
Realign the towel to cover my backside as I cross through the exposed windows.
In the bedroom.
There he is, snatching and chewing.
WHAT DOES HE HAVE??!
I'm losing the towel.
I snatch his collar.
"What do you have?!"
Pieces of kneaded eraser fall from his mouth.
"What is your obsession with this?" I pull chunks out. Push him out of the way.
So much for my pencil bag. I assess the pencils. All appear in tact.
I almost release his collar to keep him out of the way then I think better of it.
"In your house."
I shuffle him towards his crate.
I'm thinking of the chewed gum I pulled out of his mouth earlier this morning. I snatch the towel, half heartedly wrap myself and plod back to the bathroom.
He barks.
"NO!" I shout from up the hall.
I dramatically clunk the door (that doesn't close) shut.
He barks.
"ENOUGH!"
Repeat door clunk.
I wonder if he knows I can't take this routine seriously?
Parenting.
Such a pain in the butt.

And now we introduce Color, Welcome Color, Nice to meet you...