Dog Knows Best

It was a lovely September day, bright and only occasionally warm, and even then only in the sun and when the wind wasn't blowing. It was a nice reprieve from yesterday's heat, which lasted well into the night. These are the days I love most, cool ones after long hot ones. We slept with the windows open last night in attempt to keep the air moving, but when I awoke at 5:45 this morning the bedroom was cold and Duncan had wedged himself between us on the bed, pushing Winnie from her perch on my hip and Olive from Ken's pillow. He'd stretched himself out in a long, thin line, his chin resting against the top of my head, one paw draped over my arm. When the alarm went off, pulling me out of a dream I tried to remember but couldn't, Duncan groaned and actually attempted to hold me down. He's quite good with his paws, which are surprisingly strong. My new Summer work schedule has altered his and it was obvious he dreaded getting up and walking in the cold almost as much as I did. Ken didn't even stir as we climbed out of bed and ambled down the hallway, Duncan doing his yoga as he went, first Downward Dog at the side of the bed, then Upward Dog halfway down the hall and then back into a long, groan-filled Downward Dog, at the edge of the kitchen. It's his favorite pose, the one he uses to greet me when I come home from work, a sort of bow, which I always return. I pulled on my hoodie and we ventured out onto the damp, cold grass. Typically it takes a minute for him to pee, but this morning he'd barely stepped off the sidewalk before he started. I'd hardly had time for my own stretches before he was dragging me back inside. I figured Duncan would want his breakfast, which Pip was loudly reminding me about as he knocked his dish onto the floor, but he didn't. He simply trotted back down the hall and when I finally caught up to him he was back in bed, pressed against Ken and sound asleep.

He knew better than I that today was definitely a day to pull the covers over your head and ignore the world.