Thursday, August 12, 2010

Morning Effervescence

Mornings here are very effervescent..less involving us, and more the insatiable enthusiasm of our three canines: one being my sour 10-years-old-plus black mutt that I adore and whom has time for no one else except me, one being the 10-years-old-plus elegant, loyal and deserving wolf-like creature adopted this winter, and, lastly, one being the 3-years-old scruffy French Spaniel who-is-supposed-to-bird-hunt-but-does-not whom we also adopted this winter (Already very compassionate, pregnancy pushed me over the edge and landed our family two "rescues" in one winter.)

At its peak, the morning effervescing was almost more than we could bear. Being used to one dog (my black mutt), who would get out of bed when she was good and ready, after I had already risen, adjusting to a grand total of three dogs this winter was a change. They all sleep in our loft bedroom which has hardwood floors.

At the slightest sign of my or Hubby stirring from sleep in the morning, what we call the "clacking", would begin. Clacking is the sound produced from enthusiastic doggy paws dancing with the uncontainable fervor regarding a new day, on a hardwood floor. Between peer pressure and group thinking, 3 sets of doggy paws (that is, 12 individual paws...12 individual clacking producers) went "clack, clack, clack". Over joyful. Exuberant. Delighted. Zealous. Clack, clack, clack.

One of us (Hubby or I), would drag ourselves from the warm bed and struggle downstairs with the three clackers in order to hustle the clamorous joy directly out the front door, before the exuberance had a chance to awaken our young son, whose bedroom is directly below ours. I must say, it is impossible to hold a grudge against such guileless greeting of a new day, though the clacking throughout the process was a tad grating, if not bordering on thunderous.

Fortunately, now with the passage of some time, we have encouraged our clackers to keep things down to a low hum (or roar, perhaps), until the entire household is ready to rise. Now, they (the said clackers) merely sigh and perhaps switch positions on their "luxe" home-made/made-with-love doggy beds, and stretch a little, while I throw on some clothes and dab on make up. One or two may stroll over to the stairs and regally contemplate a leisurely descent... And when I whisper, "Come!", they rise as one and descend calmly to the first floor where they exit via the front door serenely to begin their morning constitutionals...

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