Perfect Mornings
4:47 a.m.
No alarm.
Just the sound of a snout at the crack of the bedroom door.
She breathes in.
She breathes out.
Out of bed.
Turn on bedroom closet light.
Make bed.
Adjust pillows.
Open bedroom door.
83 pounds of canine.
Down baby girl, down.
Good girl.
Nine steps.
Open front door.
She hurries down the porch steps.
Partly close front door.
She sniffs.
She walks.
She sniffs.
She leaves her presence — her scent on the manicured
lawn.
She walks back up the steps.
She looks at the concrete balcony.
She jumps and waits.
Grab the handle.
Brush her.
She jumps down.
She shakes.
Open front door.
She walks in.
Close door.
Walk to kitchen.
Replace the water in her bowl and set it down.
She drinks.
Start coffee.
Grab her other bowl and fill it with food.
She eats.
Walk back to bedroom.
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Iron clothes.
Walk back to kitchen.
Grab ceramic mug.
Pour coffee.
Portion out honey.
Pour lactose-free milk.
Ready to play, baby girl.
She runs down the stairs.
Follow behind her.
She runs in circles.
Open door.
She lunges out chasing squirrels.
Grab plastic purple ball.
Throw it.
She leaps through the air to retrieve it.
Grab plastic blue ball.
Throw it.
She takes flight like a monkey and catches it.
Drink coffee.
Back to purple.
Throw.
She jumps.
Back to blue.
Throw.
She leaps.
Over and over.
Throw.
Her giant ears turn pink.
Rest baby girl, rest.
Good girl.
She lays on the dewy grass.
She pants.
Stand and finish coffee.
Back inside.
Come baby girl, come.
Good girl.
Open door.
She meanders up the stairs.
Close door.
Follow behind.
Refill coffee mug.
Savor perfect mornings.
