Yummy, yummy. Morning routines.

Every morning there is a routine at our home that begins like this: Either T or myself (usually T) grabs a doggie treat and for five minutes we beg, plead, threaten our two dogs to get up and go outside for a morning pee.

"Yummy, yummy. It's time to get up"

(the dogs look at us like we're nuts)

"Yummy, Yummy. Come on now you have to go pee or no cookie"

(I CAN read their minds and they are saying to themselves that we are crazy)

"Nikki. Gabriel GET UP. You have got to go pee or you're going to explode"

(defiant looks back and forth between them - they are uniting and rebelling)

"FINE then. I hope your bladder bursts"

(they're thinking -Yeah right. Like you'd let us pee on the carpet?)

"NIKKI. GABRIEL. NOW. Get UP!"

(a look passes between them...an eyebrow raises....and the cookie in our hand starts looking pretty damn good)

"Come on now let's get up. Yummy, yummy. Who wants a cookie?"

(We won! We do rule the house. We can go outside now)

Finally, after several minutes of this, the dogs still staring defiantly at us they will s-l-o-w-l-y get up from their plush, overstuffed beds and make way to towards the bedroom door. T or I will wave the cookie tauntingly in front of them as they follow.

They take their own sweet time and a few more minutes pass between that long 20' walk from the bedroom door to the kitchen. Gabriel typically has ran back and forth into the bedroom a few times and Nikki stands in the same spot, perfectly still, trying to look invisible. (He is still tossing attitude) Finally, they will make way towards the French doors which lead to the back yard. It's at this point that all hell breaks loose.

Gabriel starts going ballistic bouncing around and jumping like going outside is the best damn thing since chasing squirrels or licking his place where his balls used to be.

And Nikki, God bless his old soul with the weak legs, starts sliding on the laminate floors into a full, 4-way split until he's laying flat on his belly. Gabe will go out of his way to knock poor Nikki over any chance he gets. And Nikki, being a bit of a drama queen, uses this time to lay there as we yell at Gabe for knocking him over. After a few tries Nikki is on his feet and looking smug.
FINALLY we get them onto the porch and on to the screen porch to the door to the yard. At this point it's Gabe's still bouncing around and Nikki is surveying the yard for dew or rain (he refuses to set on foot..paw... on anything the slightest bit damp. With cookies in hand we'll open the door the little rascals will usually sit down on the patio right in front of us like perfect angels and accept their treat for being "perfect doggies".

And people ask me why I am on Xanax?