The dog didn’t get the memo

Two carved pumpkins by stoop, one as minion, other woman with evil-looking eyelashesI laud the person who devised Daylight Savings Time. I anxiously anticipate “falling back” each year, relishing my extra hour of sleep. Sure, I’m not so happy in the Spring when I lose the hour, but every reward comes with consequences.

This year, Daylight Savings Time was perfectly timed to follow Hallowe’en. We had no kids to dress up, so J. had time to carve me an amazing Minion pumpkin. There is no end to that woman’s skills! And we bought 120 chocolate bars hoping we’d get as few trick-or-treaters as last year and have a good haul left over for ourselves. Then 18 kids showed up–that’s double last year–and J. decided to give them two chocolate bars each (those minis are getting minier, aren’t they?). After the 4 I ate last night, we’re already down to 80. J. will hide the remainder from me today.

The best part about the evening, other than the child who showed up dressed as a Canada Post mailbox, was that each time the doorbell rang, Jelly was awoken from her usual evening slumber to race to the door and howl at the unsuspecting young children. Sometimes when she’s up later than usual, she sleeps past 6 in the morning. We could only hope.

We too stayed up later than usual with dinner company, but I set my clock back diligently before I hit the hay. And I slept hard, until my four-legged friend, whose dog bed is beside me, started whining for breakfast at 4:30 a.m. DST. No one had alerted her to the time change.

Well, wasn’t I proactive! Rather than listening to the whining for an hour or more, knowing it would surely escalate into pacing, running around the house and howling in no time, I deposited Jelly in her crate in the other bedroom. But I made one fatal error: I left both doors open. After 10 more minutes of whining, I got up again and closed both doors, figuring she’d settle.

Oh, I’m so naive. For the next while, I could hear variations on the whining theme from the adjoining room. Jelly was not falling for the crate manoeuvre this morning. But what happens when a parent gives in to a child’s whining? The chid whines longer and louder the next time you say no. We all learned that in Parenting 101. So I left her there.

In case you are not as familiar with whining dogs as I am, allow me to translate her monologue for you (times are approximate):

4:30-4:38 a.m. It’s time to get up. I know it is. Why aren’t you responding?

4:39-4:48: Hey, you duped me!

4:49-5:02: I’m still here, and I’m still hungry!

5:03-5:15: Oh, c’mon already, I know you’re not really sleeping.

5:15-5:22: (With escalating urgency) If you don’t feed me soon, I’m going to die from hunger.

5:23-5:32: I can’t believe you would do this to me. You’re the mean mommy.

I thought J. was sleeping through this fiasco, but at 5:30 a.m., she said: “Why don’t we split the difference?” So I dragged myself out of bed, sent Jelly out to piddle, and fed her, after stalling as long as I possibly could. Now I’m wide awake scripting this post, which I will respectfully wait until later in the day to publish. And what is Jelly doing? She’s sleeping soundly, of course. That whining really tired her out.

Basset hound on bed with Hallowe'en outfit of hat with eyes and ears tied over head


2 thoughts on “The dog didn’t get the memo

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