6:20 a.m. Lou started bumping the side of the bed twenty minutes earlier. Six. Six. Six. Time to get up. I’m excited it’s finally morning. Aren’t you? Time for my breakfast.Time for you to rub my belly. Time for you to throw my football toy. Time to walk to the gate and fetch the newspaper for Buck.
When my legs swing to the floor they are met instantly by fifty pounds of solid chocolate Labrador retriever. She rubs, catlike, waiting for me to retrieve my cell phone and water thermos from the bedside table.
We slip out the bedroom door. Buck’s deep breathing never changes cadence. Good.
When I slide open a door to the backyard, Lou’s ears blow back in the stiff northerly breeze and she looks up at me, like, “Why didn’t you tell me a cold front was coming?” Then she’s out the door to say her hellos to the deer feeding just over the fence.
Me? I go grind some coffee beans and suit up for a game of football and a walk to the gate.