I HATE My Dawgs

...this morning, anyway.
At 3:45, something startled Boo. It was probably a nightmare, but whatever the cause, she ran into the living room and started barking.
Ben, ever the vigilant guardian, honored her alert and started barking from his position of sleep in the master bath and continued barking on his journey through the master bedroom, down the hall, and into the living room.
Tip, raised his sleepy head from its resting place down by my calves, and asked the canine equivalent of, "HUH?" Then finally jumped off the bed and joined his elders in the living room to see what all the hullabaloo was about.

The Dearly Beloved, thinking it was almost 6 am and knowing he had set his alarm for 6:30 [ so as to be on time for a match today] got up and said, "Ill let them out, I have to get up at 6:30 anyway." I opened one eye, looked at MY bedside clock and gave him a harsh newsflash, "It's a quarter to 4 !!!" But, being the Sweetheart that he is, and a Man of his Word, he still got up and let them out. Of course, after he locked the door behind them, he jumped back in bed.

So, I got up and let them back in 5 minutes later, after they had assured themselves that there were, if fact, no intruders, monsters, or creatures about the premises that required the showing of their fierce fangs and awesome bravery. Since the Dearly Beloved had turned on the kitchen light when he let them out, my night vision was now shot. I sat in the darkened living room, with only the lights from the power indicators from the 'puter, cable box and smoke detector and the street lights filtering through the trees and curtains. After a few minutes, my eyes adjusted and I could walk down the hall and into the bedroom with ease. I mean, really, we've lived in this house since the Spring of '04. It's not like the rooms shift alignment or I move the furniture every week.

Now, I'm back in bed, we're all snuggled up, gettin' nice and comfy, just about to drift off to sleep again, Gawd's in His Heaven, all's right with the world. Ben sounds the alarm. Quickly followed by Boo and Tip. The Dearly Beloved yells at them to "Hush." Barking continues. I, being more impatient and more profane than my spouse scream, "Shut the F*** UP!!!" Neither the obscene word, nor the near hysterical tone of my voice has any effect on their desperate canine cries that they MUST be allowed to go outside RIGHT THIS MINUTE!!!

Resignedly, I throw back the covers, grab my pants and shoes from the floor where I dropped them [ala Lazarus Long] and make for the back door. I thoughtfully close the bedroom door on my way out so that the Dearly Beloved can enjoy another 2.25 hours of sleep before he arises and goes off to compete in yet another shooting competition. [Do y'all see now why he adores my a$$?]

When I allow the dawgs to reenter the house, in the dark, cold hours before dawn, I look each of them in the eyes, making sure I have their complete and total attention. "I certainly hope NONE of you had plans on sleeping during the day today," I tell them, "I am going to make sure, as I go through MY sleep deprived day, that y'all don't get any of your oh so frequent naps. There will be hand clapping, there will be loud music, there will be much frenetic 'Mama Dancin' ' designed specifically to keep y'all awake throughout the day. If you're going to wake me up before 6 in the morning, THIS is what YOU can expect".

Do I think they understood a single word of what I said? NO, pf course not! They are smart. Well, Boo and Tip are, anyway. Did it make me feel better to harangue and threaten them? HAIL Yes, it did. Just ask my chirrens. Tellin' them all the dire, terrible, horrible, no good, very bad things I was goin' to do to them was half the fun of the punishment. [for me, anyway]