Morning Warfare

My month of Scott is over halfway through. Which may very well be a good thing (a person always like their dog(s) the best….)…

"Hi....."

First the good: Scott completes his morning rounds with a look of joyous rapture every morning. It makes me smile to watch Bacon and Scott frolic (there is really no other way to describe their running styles) in big looping circles through the snow, avoiding the driveway because neither of them can handle the ice.  The other plus is that on cold nights, I have a big black foot warmer (poodles don’t do feet).

Now for the downside of Sotters. Mr Scott likes to get up around 5:30 in the morning. That is a good three hours before the sun rises, and a good hour and a half before I would prefer to rise. He used to start his morning by talking and shifting around. When that was ignored by a dead-to-the-world Me, he upped his ante by leaping off the bed, making those strange Sheltie noises, then leaping back onto the bed (which he thinks is the neatest trick yet!), circling the bed-first at the walk, then after several more leaps on and off the bed, at the trot and Sheltie run. It’s hard to ignore a 30 pound Sheltie who is running over your bladder/kidneys/head.

So I lobbed him off the bed. I was NOT going to give in to Sheltie peer pressure, and I sure wasn’t going to ‘rise and shine’ at this ungodly hour.

After a week and a half of being lobbed off the bed into my dirty clothes hamper, Mr Scott has changed his tactic. He no longer runs and jumps on me at 5:30 in the morning. He now waits until 7am. Sharp.

Evidently he refuses to take his cue from the poodles, who will open their eyes when I roll over or shift around, but won’t actually move or think about getting up until I make the executive decision to drag myself out of bed.  Even then, on most mornings (nearly all now that it’s cold and dark outside) Tempi will rush outside to relieve herself then flee back upstairs to snuggle back in the warm spot she recently vacated on her pillow.

This morning Scott upped the ante to get me out of bed – seeing as I was still firmly ensconced at 7:04, according to my alarm clock. He walked up along my bed until he was staring at my head, making his Sheltie noises in the process. Then he farted.

A big loud whoopee cushion type fart.

THAT got my attention. I rolled over, and glared at him gagging on what can only be described as a Cloud of Death.  Even Tempi fled to the chaise….

He smiled.

Scott: 1, Alison: 0 for the morning.

Instantly followed by Stairs: 1, Scott: 0.