Wet Dog

George came back from an early morning walk at the beach so wet and sandy that he needed a bath. Luckily, there was someone on hand to give it to him. I wonder at the life this creature leads. His every need is taken care of, and he accepts it all with imperturbable aplomb, aware that this is no more than his due...

It's George who supervises the morning wake-up in our household. He stirs pretty much at first light and takes care of his ablutions--a ritual that involves a great deal of chewing, scratching and licking, with particular attention to the crotch, and considerable thumping of the hind leg on the bed. That done, he'll quickly sense if I'm awake and make a nest for a while between my legs, until he decides it's time for Ellie to wake up--a favor he bestows with noisy licks to the cheek. She calls it love and kisses. I call it the cream she uses on her face.

Once he's sure that everyone is properly awake and at his service, George requires his morning walk for a pee and, usually, a couple of poops; after which, of course, it's breakfast. And time to get back to the major work of the day: more sleep.