I Love Lucy

The usual weekend routine for my dog, Lucy, and me is:


Sleep in until around 9am at which point I am usually awakend by the worlds cutest nose on my pillow, little round eye urging me to respond. 

This is followed by good morning kisses and a good belly scratching (for Lucy, of course!)


Put the kettle on, get the french press prepared with the awakening powers of caffeine.


Let Lucy out into the yard to do her business of smelling what went on while we were asleep. I prepare her morning snack of her favorite wet food (sweet potatoes and venison) jammed inside the center of her favorite remnant of some poor slaughtered bovine. (I thank you little bovine for giving your life to sustain humans and canaines with your yummy goodness.)


Lucy comes in about the same time the kettle whistle blows. She sits on the kitchen rug looking longingly at me as she awaits her breakfast. 

I gather my coffee, and her bone, the sound of her claws on the wood floor as she follows me into the living room. 


She sits on her blanket, and I place the goodie filled bone next to her. "Wait" I tell her, and she does; watching my every move for the go ahead. 


At this point is where the routine changed this morning. Usually, I would take my place on the couch, take a sip of my coffee, then say "OK", and she would start in on her breakfast. However, this morning, I got distracted and went back into the kitchen. I was in there for about twenty seconds when I hear the sound of Lucy's claws on the wood floor, followed by her sweet little face peering around the  doorway. I thought for sure she had already dug into her breakfast, and a small waive of guilt for my neglecting to give her the "OK" command came over me. We walked back into the living room together, and to my surprise she hadn't touched her bone yet. She was waiting on me, so that we could have our breakfast together. (Heart melting). What a thoughtful creature. I love her.


She sat on her blanket waiting as before, I take my place on the couch, sip my coffee, give the "OK", and our routine is back in place.


Lucy finishes her breakfast, jumps on the couch, stis next to me, as we look out into the plum trees and watch other morning routines of birds and squirrels. 

She curls up in the bend of my leg and rests her head on my thigh. 


I sip my coffee, petting her head, and continue to watch the morning happenings in the trees outside.