My Furry Alarm Clock

So I am a night person. And with my new job as a Pure Romance consultant, I often work until midnight, get home and eat dinner and don't wind up in bed until 1 or later. So I like to sleep in the mornings, because I am MOST DEFINITELY not a morning person.

Which is fine. To each their own, right? Problem is, my dog is apparently NOT a night, um, dog, but a morning dog. Which means that from the moment I come home, he stares at me seemingly without blinking. He appears to be mentally willing me to be ready to go to bed. When he eventually gives up and lays his head down, he keeps an ear cocked for any noise and if I even slightly shift on the couch, he bolts upright hopefully thinking that the time has come at last for bed. Stares at me for a while more with that weird no-blink thing and then sighs and lays his head back down. Now don't ask me why sleeping in the living room while I watch TV isn't as good to him as sleeping in the bedroom while I sleep, but apparently there is a big difference and the living room is capital "I" Inadequate!

Eventually, of course, I go to bed and he is most pleased to accompany me, little nub waggin furiously when he realizes the time has at last come. Within moments of the light going off, he is snoring lightly (or not so lightly sometimes) in the corner on his bed. Where he remains until light dawns. I have not been awake to be sure, but I feel pretty certain that as soon as light enters the room, he wakes up and starts to wait for me to wake up, so we can leave the bedroom and he can go sleep in a more appropriate location elsewhere in the house while he waits for breakfast. (Who here wants to be a dog and live this life? Show of hands?)

He must wait for a while before growing impatient enough to act. Usually about 7:30 he can wait no longer and takes things into his own hands. He doesn't bark, cause he's not a very chatty guy. He chooses instead the Chinese water torture version of waking me up. He starts to pace in a circle. Which would not be a problem if it weren't for the whole toenails-clicking-on-hard-wood-floors issue. So he paces and paces in a circle while the sound slowly seeps its way into my consciousness. Every once in a while he stops and does a full-body shake, giving me the sound of his tags jangling on his collar as an added incentive. And then it's back to the pacing, punctuated with occasional shaking and heavy sighs. Finally, the noise, which has entered my dreams and begun to pull me back to life, wakes me entirely. So I sit up to see what's going on and his butt PLANTS on the floor faster than lightening. Innocent face looking at me with a very 'Hey! You're up! How nice! I had no idea but I sure am pleased' expression on his face. Should I dare to lay back down and attempt to ignore him, he resumes pacing and the cycle begins anew.

Of course, I surrender and get up to let him out and give him breakfast. And as I begin my day, I inevitably begin my inner debate... should I buy him socks? Or should I get a carpet? Can I just cut his toenails completely off? Or perhaps I can create some new kind of snooze button for him. And so the day goes on, creeping toward the night when we will once again begin the battle of night person vs. morning dog. Life is cyclical.