Dogs can't tell time

I KNOW!!! I was as surprised as you to find that out!

As everyone who doesn't live in that certain area of Indiana where the time never changes knows, this weekend was the annual waste of time.  The day to "fall back" an hour.  Yea! An extra hour of sleep... yeah right.  Tell that to my dog who either doesn't listen when I tell her these things, or pretends not to know.

Sunday morning sure as $hi# she was up at 5:40, but with the time change make that 4:40.  (I think that she has a link in her brain to the atomic clock.)  Not only was she up, but also panting in excitement to get to go out for a long walk.  She was irritated at my less than enthusiastic stance in the matter.  So to get her way, the queen jumped up on the bed, sat down, still panting so much that the bed was shaking.

I'm old enough to remember the creepy "Magic Fingers" that were in the finer rest stop motels along the highways and byways of this great land.  For a quarter you got a few minutes of the bed shaking that was supposed to give the weary traveler a restful and relaxing magic massage.  (Uh-huh.  You can make your own jokes here.  It's just too easy.)  The older the units were, the less they shook. But when you got a good one, it could almost shake you off the bed and onto the disgusting carpet.  Good times, good times.  I call what Largo (my dog) does Magic Fingers as she shakes the bed in varying degrees of seismic activity.

So there we were.  At an impasse so to speak.  The one day of the year I could get an extra hour after staying up way too late watching a rerun of Mystery Science Theater 3000 ( I know! It's an exciting life I've carved out for myself!)  Remember when Saturday nights were about going out, getting drunk and seeing where the winds may blow you?  Yeah, me too.  Now they're about which bad movie to watch.  Growing older kinda sucks.  This was always a great night in college too because of the extra hour.  An extra hour to stay out.  An extra hour to sleep it off until Taco Bell opened.  It was great.  Now it's just an extra hour that the dog doesn't want to have to wait to go pee.  There is some irony in there somewhere, but I just don't have the energy today to look for it.

So there we were, still laying in bed with the dog stationed over me panting.  When this doesn't work she moves on the the next thing in her arsenal.  She licks my face.  She'll continue to do so even when I try to defend myself.  It's a really good thing that she's so darn cute and that's a lot of fun playing with her like that or I'd be really pissed.  If for some reason she wants to take it to the next level, she goes on to her version of water boarding.  She'll hunker over top of me and pant.  Not a big deal, but then comes the drool.   Long, disgusting wet bombs of sticky drool dropping down on my forehead.  This was her m.o. for Sunday.  She knows that with the first drop that she has me and we're going to do what the queen wants to do.

Naturally we were off in a minute and out wandering the empty streets of the neighborhood, marking her territory every few feet.  It's no wonder that all the dogs in the area hate her so much.  The only solace was in the fact that when we were almost home we came across some other schmuck and his dog.  "Your dog can't tell time either, huh" was all he could utter.

Glad that it's just not my dog that gets her way.